Affection Unbound
by Christina Crowriddle
Summary: Love people when they least deserve it, because that is when they need it the most. TF Animated, follows Cyndi's Lightverse.
1. Chapter 1

Affection unbound

Chapter I

Pain…Death…Oil splattering everywhere…Help…HELP ME! It hurts! Don't let'em near me! NO! NO NO NO NO NO! Not the red X! Let me go! LET ME GO!

Lockdown woke with a raspy screech, spranging up like the plant after the rain. Panting, he looked around him, jerking his head left and right, fearfully expecting to find himself in the middle of the dreaded scrap yard.

Nothing. No smoke, not dead, gray metal, and, most inportantly, no red X-es. Only the softly glowing monitors of his beloved ship stared back at him, still showing the list of top bounties in the last year. Letting out a long, deep exhale, Lockdown let himself spump back onto the console with a solid „THUMP". Offlining his spindle crimson optics, he let a humorless smile creep onto his stark features.

_Huh... Ah must've fell 'sleep a' work 'gain...heh..._

No sound. And for Lockdown, none was needed. Why bother with sounds when one has no audios to listen to them? Besides, vibrations were doing the job for him just nicely, thank you very much.

Pushing off his console, he stretched his arms above his helm, metallic joints poping and straining as he eased the tension out of his mismatched body.

_Might as well take a walk..._

The bounty hunter was sitting on the beach of the lake Erie. The sun has sttled already and it was steadily growing dark, but he did not care. The Death's Head was near, cloacked like the enormous rock. Simple, but effective.

Lockdown felt water drop on his black spiked shoulder, and looked up. The sky was starless and he could see dark clouds swirling threateningly above. The storm was picking up, and he knew he would be the only one outside from now on. Maybe. Well, no fleshbags at least.

He saw the lightning flash against the darkness of the stormy sky, and mere seconds later, one of the most powerful vibrations in the universe wracked trough his body, shoting up trough his backstruts to his Spark. But Lockdown seriously suspected that the vibrations only rang trough the empty Spark chamber. After all, the monster like him could not possibly have a Spark.

Lockdown almost did not see the shadow that was cast against the dark lake, waht with being too absorbed the seconds between the thunders out of pure boredom.

Almost.

Whipping up, falling into a defensive stance, and a little spooked out at how all of his ninja training was not so completely lost to him as he tought it was, he fully expected that accursed, gorgeus, talented opticless ninjabot with his throwing disks at the ready. Needless to say, what Lockdown _really_ saw shocked him so much he fell onto his aft back in the mud.

There, basking in the light of the lightnings and rain, lip components parted slightly and helm thrown back, was a bot with wings similar to Blitzwing's and a cockpit for a chassis. It looked like a fembot. By the features of the body it looked like the neutral, a bot, but the stance was far too straight and the readings of the Spark far too strong to be anything short of a femme.

The new bot turned to Lockdown and extended her servo to him. He stared, wide opticed, and he probably gaped like a glitched turbofish for a moment too long. The fembot's mouth fell into a frown and she went to pull her servo back. Lockdown, snapping out of it, snatched the small servo into his own one and the fembot smiled, helping him up. He was impressed. For a small body, she sure was stong. about decieving apperiances.

Now that they were standing faceplates to faceplates, or, rather, faceplates to chassis, Lockdown could finally see this mysterious little femme. She was muddy, but he could make out the vivid purples and greens of the paintjob. The helm was purple with two green stripes on each side and green, round audios. An oddly shaped crest adorned the fembot's forehelm. He moved his crimson optics forther down, to look the femme in the optics. Except there were no optics visible. Rather, cracked Prowl- like visor stared back at him, and Lockdown could see blue optic-light seeping trough the .Weird. No Autobot had purple-green paintjob, much less flight-capable. Not that Lockdown knew about, anyways. No faction insignia visible either, but it was hard to tell with all of the sticky mud stuck on the fembot's armor.

_Ah well, all or nothin'._

„Who're ya?"- he asked.

The femme stayed silent. Lockdown frowned and felt his temper slip.

„Hey kid, Ah'm talkin' to ya! Ah'm Lockdown, wha's yer designation, fraggit?"

The femme turned her visor away and looked to the wet soil. Finally she threw her head back, tapping her neck with her left srvo. Lightning chose that particular moment to strike, and Lockodwn saw sparks dancing around the long fingers and the exposed vocalizer. Broken, rendering the bot mute.

Sighing, the fembot turned her helm to the say, not meeting his optics, far too shy and self-concious to do anything but stare ar the ground, nervously biting her bottom lip and wrapping her arms around her chassis. He could see small fangs peeking under the top lip component, biting the bottom one so hard Lockdown was wondering how the metal did not buckle and rupture under it.

Lockdown mused for a while, staring the fembot down. If he took her to his ship, he was risking everything. The bot was a complete stranger to him, and, for all he knew, this could all be some kind of trap from either sides and he would be deactivated before the end of the night.

On the other servo, he was awfully curious. This little femme was a mystery to him, a mystery he itched to solve. Besides, she looked like she could lose some help.

_Since when do Ah care 'bout helpin' the bot's in need?_ Lockdown growled and cursed under his breath, too quietly for the other one to hear above the thunders and beating of the rain._ Ah'm growin' soft, dammit. Ah'm challengin' the death sentence rite now...Okay, her' goes..._

Making his processors up, already at the peace with the fact that he was severely glitching and psychotic, Lockdown snatched the fembot's servo in his own, starting to pull her towards his masked ship. The bot, naturaly, resisted. He actually _twisted_ out of Lockdown's grip and fell into a defensive stance.

Far too annoyed to notice or care about the pure ninja stance the fembot was in, Lockdown sighed and rolled his optics. Figures. The damn femme did not know nothing of him but his name, and to be frank, he would react the same way she did. But he would import himself to the Pit before admitting it to the universe out loud.

„C'mon, kid. Ah'm gonna help ya. Ya can say wit' me, if yeh wanna. Ah'm itchin' for some company anyway."

The fembot's mood performed an all out 180° swing. Dirty face lighing up with the biggest smile known to universe Lockdown tought was pretty much physicaly impossible, the fembot leaped up and latched onto him, nuzzling into his chassis and Lockdown realized with more suprise than he cared to admit that he was, for the forst time in at least two billion years, hugged. Fragging _hugged._ From a complete stranger none the less.

_Ah seem to git suprised a lot taday..._

Thankfully, the petite fembot let go almost instantly, backing up a few steps, looking toroughly ashamed and flustered, and bit her bottom lip again, mentaly berating herself for being so ignorant. _ What were you thinking, hugging a complete stranger like that!Stupid, ignorant, severely glitched femme!_\- she screamed inside her helm. She snapped it back up when Lockdown spoke.

„C'mon, kid."- he said, taking the fembot's servo in his own one, enclosing in completely.

He led the way to his ship, unknowingly opening the doors that were locked for far too long in both their Sparks, creating a bond that would last trough the centuries to come, and would not break even when their shells cease to function.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II**

Lockdown had no idea what he was doing at first.

He took the fembot to „The Death's Head" and told her to stay on the bridge. Now, as he rummaged trough the shelves to find something,_ anything _to clean the unfortunate stranger on his bridge up, he was certain that he was severely glitched in the processors and was pretty much going insane.

He found what he needed, which was a cleaning solvent and at least a dozen of these fluffy organic sheets found all around the Earth...rowels...no...Towels! Yes, towels. Of all the things that could be found on the tiny, pathetic backwater planet, towels were one of the few things Lockdown truly enjoyed. He would never admit it, of course. Lockdown the bounty hunter, ruthless and merciless mod thief and a neutral trash, enjoying fluffy drying tools, hah!

_Tha's it. Ah'm goin' crazy. Crazy. Why'm Ah not suprised?_

He sighed, gathering all he found in his mismatched arms, and stomped back to the bridge. The fembot was still there, looking around from her vantage point, exactly where he left her. She snapped her visor back at him as he came around, carrying towels and solvents.

„C'm'ere kid, ya gotta git cleaned up."

The fembot eyed the things uncertainly, but reluctantly approached him anyway. Lockdown motioned for her to sit on the chair he brought, and after the purple-green fembot was comfortable, he dumped the solvents not-so-gently over her. He took the first towel and brushed it over her helm. The moment he pulled away, however, he swore, shielding his optics.

„Frag! Where did ya git the paintjob kid! Yer practic'ly a lighthouse!"

He growled, getting up and strolling over to the shelf which contained many mods.

Lockdown was a modification colectioner. They were his fix, an unhealthy obsession. This particular one allowed him to look at the most brightest of colors, without hurting his optics or flinching away. It was shaped like the flat visor, only dark in color and covering his optics, forehelm and inked cheekplates. He turned back to the femme and resumed cleaning her up. He let her have her privacy, gruffily turning his back to her while she cleaned herself from wait down. After that was out of the way, Lockdown led her to his workshop, planting her on the surgery table and gathering necessary tools to repair her vocalizer. Only, after further inspection, Lockdown realized that the vocalizer was beyond repair. He took it out carefully, and wondered what to do with the now completely mute fembot.

Finally Lockdown snapped his digits, and, looking down at the bothered fembot that stared at her vocalizer like it had become organic, turned on his pedes and rummaged and looked for a particular mod. He found it after sometime, and turned back to the fembot to install it. The neon fembot looked absolutely spooked and Lockdown rolled his optics.

„Is a vocalizer kid, not a turbolion. It belonged ta Songstream, she gave i' ta meh after she gave vow o' silence, rite after her bon'mate offed. Yer gonna have yer voice back."

Songstream was a top Cybertronian singer. She had a voice that melted the coldest of Sparks and was one of the Cybertron's favourites. The first time Lockdown laid optics on her was during the hunt, when he was catching the serial killer gone rogue. Her bondmate, Greenvoice, was her manager and a singing partner. Songstream's voice was the only thing Lockdown truly heard, with Spark and nonexistent audios alike. Further scans proved that Lockdown actually _had_ a half melted processor motherboard and a functional, albeit damaged, wire connected to the peripheral chip of his right audio that only processed one frequency. Needless to say, he was overjoyed. Songstream was a flaw sympathizer, and she was the one who took him to Magnificus, who gave him the scans. They were inseparable during his hunt. He catched the killer in the end, but Greenvoice was killed in the final chase. Songstream was beyond sparkbroken, and gave a vow of silence right after her final performance on the burial. Many claimed it was her greatest moment. Songstream gave her vocalizer to Lockdown as a thank you gift and a prize. That vocalizer meant to Lockdown more than any trophy in the world ever could.

Now, six million years later, he was installing it into the strange fembot with vibrant neon paintjob. It was rather fitting – vibrant armor, vibrant voice.

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The process of the installation was long and delicate. More than a few times did Lockdown snap at that crazy fembot to hold still, or he would by all means rewire her into a bomb. After that particular threat was growled out, she gave one last flinch before forcing herself to relax and stilling.

Her neck was awfully sensitive and the spot where Lockdown was touching tasted numb and tingly at the same time. All she wanted was to duck her helm and hide. There she was, letting a stranger poke around her _throat_. But, she figured, she did weirder things in the past. So she held still. She really did not want to become a walking bomb.

Finally the installation was over. Lockdown closed the panel on her neck and she allowed herself a slight shiver.

„Try it outta kiddo. Can't know if i' worked if ya'll gonna be silent all tha time."

The fembot almost fell to the temptation of cutting him in half with her katanas for bossing her around, but figured it was not the greatest start. Thus, she gave him an unimpressed stare.

She tried saying „thank you", but all that got out was static. She tried a few times more, variating between saying her designation and random thoughts. Finally, the only sound Lockdown has ever know and been itching to hear again rung trough The Death's Head, as vibrant and clear as ever:

„Synaesthesia."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: ****First of all, I want to thank the one and only Firewolves16 for being my first reviewer and a follower. I love you so much sweetheart! Also, as for your question, you will just have to wait and see.**

**I don't own. Only Syn.**

**Chapter III**

„ Sorry?"-Lockdown stared, perplexed, at the fembot before him. He knew she was messed up. But he didn't know she was messed up_ so much_!

„Don't be. That is my designation. Synaesthesia. Syn, if you will. The name is far too long and glossa-breaking for almost everyone to memorize or say properly. Lockdown, was it not? Thank you. For everything."

Lockdown supressed a shiver at the sound of her new voice. It was so melodic, so angelic. If asked, he would say it was the voice of that sick bastard Primus itself.

„Nah, no prob, kid. Ya looked like ya needed a servo at a time."

Syn grinned up at him ( Primus was the fembot tiny) and offered him her servo. He enclosed it with his much larger one and gave it a firm shake.

„ As much as I would love to stay chitchat, Lockdown, I fear I have already stayed out my welcome here. Thank you for your hospitality. Hopefully, we will meet again under better cirumstances."

Syn turned away from him and started walking towards the exit, her pedefalls eerily silent.

Lockdown panicked. He just got to hear again, she could not go!

Yes, Lockdown panicked and did something very stupid and uncharacteristicaly nice for him.

„Hey! Hey kid! Syn!"

Synaesthesia turned to face him:"Yes?"

Lockdown scratched his neck with his hook and looked down at her.

„ Ya could stay, if ya wanna. Jus' don't get in tha way."

For someone who choose to wear a visor, Syn gave a pretty good impression of blinking. After a moment of dumbstruck silence and disbelief on both sides, her face was split by oneof her impossibly large smiles and she dashed up at him.

And before Lockdown could react in any form and way of reactions, Syneasthesia latched onto him like a vice. Pulling back quickly, she stared up a him and waited.

And _waited._

„...What?"- Lockdown snapped.

„ Will you not show me around the ship? Can not have me wandering aimlessly and ending up falling out trough the airlock."-Syn answed innocently.

It was Lockdown's turn to stare. Huh. The damn kiddo had a point.

Turning away, he grumbled at her to follow him and gave her the tour around The Death's Head.

All the while questioning his good judgement and mental conditions for letting her stay, even tough it was only for his selfish wish to be close to the soure of the only sound he could trully hear.

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„Ya know Syn, I could repair yer visor. Broke' visor ain't no more usefull than new paintjob."

After the tour and an extremely odd and awkward refuelling, Lockdown showed Syn her new room. It was an empty storage room, long forgetten by his owner. Dust covered everything and the air was stale.

Syn was thankful anyway. Lockdown gave her the permission to decorate it as she saw fit, as long as the restauration did not affect his credit condition too much, because 'it was crisis an' he was damn well lucky to 'ave this much an' he had two mouths to fraggin' feed now'.

Syn grimaced: „I would much rather repair it myself, if you do not mind."

„Oh Ah mind alrite. Nobot touches mah stuff but me. Now kindly give tha gimmick ta me."

Syn stiffened and her tension was so great one could cut it with the knife. She looked away and met Lockdown's gaze moments later.

„No."

Lockdown gaped.

Suddenly, a holoscan so familiar it hurt, and yet so distant at the same time, popped up in his mind. Shuddering and cursing mentally, he forced the image out of his processors. Finding himself very afraid all of a sudden, he hoped Synaesthesia was not what he feared she was. Otherwise, he was officially doomed.

_Primus, if ya do this ta me, ya just confirm ya don't care 'bout flaws if yer life depended on it._

Gritting his dentas, Lockdown managed to force out:"...Are ya blind?"

The answer was so heated and so not what he expected and feared it nearly gave him a fuelpump failure.

„What? _No!_ Whatever gave you that impression?! Most certainly not!"- Syn shot back.

They spent some time in an uncomfortable silence, and then Lockdown finally found the courage to bring it up again.

„Then, what's it?"

Syn's small shoulders visibly sagged in dismay.

„You really are not going to let it slide, are you?"

„Nope."-Lockdown shot her a slag-eating grin.

Synaesthesia sighed deeply and turned her back to him. A few moments later, her voice rang out vibrantly.

„ Sometimes, the assembly line glitches and mistakes happen. One mistake amongst million perfections. I am _the one._"

A sharp click echoed trough the ship, gone unheared by Lockdown but louder than cannonfire to her.

Her left servo lowered, the visor in it.

„What, ya 'ave red optics? Can't say it wouldn't sui-"

„Swear it upon your Spark you will not tell anything to anyone."- Synaesthesia hissed.

„Wha-"

„_SWEAR IT!"_

Lockdown recoiled. Woah. It was more serious than he tought. Syn had the right to offline him if he went against his word.

„...Ah swear."

Syn turned around and harsh lights caught her face. Lockdown stared at her, shocked speechless.

Syneasthesia had optics alright. Not normal ones, mind you. Her left optic was aqua blue, while the other one was...red.

Vermillion, fierce angry Decepticon _red._

„ What 'appened?"

Syn avoided his optics and fidgeted uncomfortably.

„One of the arms on the line malfunctioned. It...knocked the blade on my helm...severing all of the sensor wires. They tried to repair me...but wired the sensors and processors wrongly. The pain and stress inflicted upon my body ruptured the right optic fibers and it became red. They never bothered by it... they just tossed me away and resumed working. I ran, disoriented. It was so confusing and intense, and I barely managed to crawl under some kind of bridge before I passed out. Wrongly wired connections mean crossed senses. I see music, taste emotions, hear colors."

Syn was beyond confused when Lockdown visibly relaxed, then reached up and put his servo on his helm, fiddling with something.

When he spoke, his voice was so low Syn had trouble seeing it.

„Yer not the only one, kid. Ah'm deaf as a post, almost. Acid spilled and sizzled mah audios. Only can hear yer new voice."

Once the helmet was removed, Lockdown trew his helm back and harsh lights revealed his own source of shame. Where audios were supposed to exist, stood glaring jagged holes. Syn nearly passed out when she noticed she could see _trough his head._

„ That is quite a feature you have there, Lockdown."

She hesitantly came closer to him, reaching out but stopping mid-air.

„ Would you mind if I..?"

When Lockown avoided her mismached optics and shook his head no, he would not mind, Syn skimmed her fingertips over the rim of the hole, her touch feather-light, barely there. She explored his imperfection, leaving no place unmapped. Then she felt the tremors and looked down.

What she saw shocked her.

Lockdown's optics were shut tightly, his denta bared in a pained grimace. Tears streamed hotly down his stark face and his whole frame shook. Synaesthesia pulled back instantly, moving to cup his face.

„Lockdown. Lockdown, what is wrong? Did I hurt you?"

Lockdown shook his head violently, and pulled her closer, wrapping his mismaching arms around her lithe frame, trembling so much his plating rattled.

„...Lockdown..?"

„A-Ah'm sorry kiddo. J-just... ya've no i-idea what Ah w-was 'bout ta d-do tonite..."-Lockdown sobbed harshly and softly at the same time.

Truth is, Lockdown was planning suicide that fateful night. Four billion years of fear, hatered and self-loathing have finally won. If it was not for the neon colored fembot, The bounty huner would be dead by now.

He told her. He told her everything. Of Yoketron and his dojo, of his betrayal, of the beautiful blind Prowl and the _other _ninja, of every one of his sins.

Syn did not know what to think. She stared blanky at the fragile creature in her arms, and wondered in her joung mind what to do. Her Master was dead, killed by the one she now held. She finally knew why she was sent to the emergency stasis lock and why she woke up on Earth.

She looked down at Lockdown, and forgave. Syn forgave and held him in her arms, rocking back and forth lightly and caressing his helm. She never cried, never grieved. Because she made a promise to Master Yoketron to never be sorrowful again, and she would burn in the Pit if she brike that promise. Still, she spared a moment of silence for the one she called a father and a friend and silently prayed for his Spark.

Yes, revenge would not do a thing. Lockdown was remorseful, Lockdown was sorry, Lockdown never_ wanted to do it,_ and that is all Syn had to know to forgive the murderer of her Master.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:**** Yes, Firewolves16, that is me talking to Prowl on Tumblr. Small world, huh?**

**And so, I bring you chapter 4! I am so happy.**

**I don't own. Only Syn.**

**Chapter IV**

Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. Syn learned to adapt to living with Lockdown. Her new room, dusty and empty before, was now filled with a low recharge berth, a shelf and a low table with cushions.

Lockdown gave her the permission to wander around the ship. The Death's Head itself was small, smaller than the average ship, but it was comfortable. Well, as much as grey steel walls and shelves filled with mods can be comfortable.

Syn often wondered what made her come with Lockdown in the first place. The mech was dark even by her standards, and was nothing short of what human race called „a cowboy". Whatever that meant.

Even more she wondered why she forgave him so easily. Lockdown was a_ murderer of her sacred sensei_, for Primus' sake! Then, a memory of him weeping and shakily clinging onto her for dear life would pop up, and she would be reminded why.

„ Hey kiddo, think you could lend a servo?"

Syn was snapped out of her musings when his deep, rough voice echoed trough the ship. She fluidly untangled from her lotus position and walked into the workshop where Lockdown resided.

„Yes, Lockdown?"

The formerly adressed mech was bent over a piece of plating. Further inspection reveiled in was his helmet, a simple piece of black metal covering the back of his head and the holes.

„ Think ya could hold dis end fer me? Ah gotta bend it back in position."

„Of course."-Syn walked towards him and put her servos on the right end of the helmet. In doing so, she unintentionaly brushed her hip on Lockdown's tigh.

Electricity danced where their plating met. Lockdown jumped slightly and looked down at her and their touching legs. Not knowing how to respond to the situation, and noticing Syn did not either, he delicately put some distance between them. The spot where they touched tingled.

„Um...yeah, like dat. Just grip it 'ard."

„Okay."- Syn all but whispered.

A moment of awkward silence was followed by a series of _twack, twack, twack_. It went on for quite some time; Syn holding down, Lockdown bending. One last, final _twack_, and the workshop was silent again.

Synaesthesia let go of the helmet and Lockdown put it on again. He cleared his vocalizer and she looked up at him.

„ Um, Ah gotta new bounty. Wanna...tag along?"

„A...bounty?"

Lockdown rolled his optics.

„Yeah, a bounty, kid. Wanna help earn some creds?"

Syn mused for a second. She has never tried bounty hunting before. And she had to help in some way. Doing nothing while Lockdown broke his backstruts to earn for the living would simply not do.

„ Okay, I will accompany you. Who are we hunting?"

Lockdown's face lit up like Iaconian lights. He strolled out of the workshop and onto the bridge, Syn trailing behind him.

He sat himself in his ridicoulusly ( to Syn) large capetain chair and, with a flourish of his smart digits, the console lit up and displayed The Feed, intergalactical bounty hunting site containing lists upon lists of bounties and their information.

„We're lookin' fer a nasty one. Psydis. Broke outta The Stockade an' in hidin'. A serial killer an' a psycho rapist."

Syn's optics widened the size of the moon behind her visor.

„ Nobot in their right mind would go after him, no matter the prize."

„Damn right. He's woth alot, an' there won't be any competition. Nobot who has halfa processors takes dis kinda bounty up."

Syn delicately arched a browplate.

„So that makes the two of us fools?"

Lockdown fired the engine and The Death's Head jolted, rushing forward. Syn stumbled and went flying into a nearby shelf, crashing with a yelp, mods attacking from above. She glared at Lockdown as he turned to her from his seat with a slag-eating grin, and shouted over the rumble of the engine:

„The biggest!"

666

The Death's Head flew down and touched the ground, cloacking and blending in with its surroundings. The ramp lowered and a muscle car rushed out, followed by a jet, who was more than glad to get out and see the sky again.

„ Dun wander a lot kid, we gotta job ta do."

Syn mentally rolled her optics.

„ Whatever. It is not my fault I like open spaces. Anyway, where are we heading?"

Lockdown took a turn to the left.

„Dis' one of a many colonies kiddo. He was reported ta be seen 'ere last. We're headin' into town."

Syn slowed down and came beside him, confused.

„ Why would a wanted criminal hide in the crowded town?"

If Lockdown was in his bipedal mode, he would have shot her a grin.

„'Cause dere's no better hidin' place than in plain sight."

666

They found their target at last.

Psydis was lounging in a dirty bar, intoxicated off his aft and completely oblivious to the fact that he was about to get that very aft handed to him.

Lockdown observed him from the distance like a hawk, an evil smirk on his stark face. Syn was sitting beside him, stealing glances at their prey as well. She curled her lip in distaste when Psydis pulled a stripper fembot close and laved her neck cables with his glossa, leaving a sticky trail of lubricant in its wake.

„ That bastard glitch's drunk offa 'is aft. Dis' gonna be easy."

Syn's optics widened when he gripped her forearm and pulled her closer. Unwanted shivers trailed down her wings when he whispered in her audio:

„Okay kiddo, here's the plan. Ya go dere an' distract the crazy mecha 'till Ah sneak attack from behind. Dig?"

Not waiting for the response, Lockdown pushed her towards their intoxicated prey.

„What?! How am I supposed to do that?"-Syn whispered harshly.

„The Pit would Ah know? Use yer femme charm or sumthin', jus' distract 'im!"- the bounty hunter shot back.

Turning to where Psydis resided, the neon fembot shuddered at the mere tought of going up to him.

_I...cannot believe I am about to do this. _Her small shoulders sagged in dismay and she sighed miserably. _Okay then...here it goes..._ Pulling on a seducing smile and telling her screaming pride and dignity off, she sashajed up to Psydis.

And promptly jumped into his lap.

„ Woah there, little one! Ya new here?"

Psydis' voice was a raspy, screechy tenore and the moment and the moment his rusty servo touched her green tigh Syn was overcome by a great temptation to rip her own audios out, purge her morning tea and rip the slegger apart with her bare servos. All at once.

„Mmhmm, and you must be Psydis, am I right? I heard many things about you, you nasty _mech_."

Psydis' digits fondled her hip seam and she felt nausea coming on. Her optic twitched.

„Oh? An' what are these things ya heard?"

Syn stole a glance across his shoulder. Lockdown gave her a thumb up and sneaked closer, now standing mere meters away from them.

„Many _dirty things._ Oh! I know! Why don't you show them to me? C'mon, give me that _animal._"- Syn growled, not believing this was happening.

Psydis' browplates rose up in suprise and he chuckled a moment later, licking his lips. Syn spotted shark-like denta.

„Sure thing, little one. I've gotta room here. I'll show these_ things_ ta ya there."

As Psydis rose, Lockdown jumped him from behind and tackled him to the dusty floor.

Syn dodged them and let Lockdown handle the crazy psycho. If he needed help, he would snarl at her to jump in.

Just as it looked like Lockdown would win, Psydis grabbed his uppermost spikes and trew him off. Lockdown howled like a wounded animal and Psydis dashed out of the bar. A brawl erupted trough the whole bar as Lockdown flew into the booth of some other bots. Syn rolled her optics and ran after their bounty.

Once outside, Syn spotted him. He was running aimlessly, panicking, disoriented. He seemed much more sober now, however. She dashed up to him and tapped his shoulder. He spun around and she spin kicked him square in the face with her foot. He fell to the ground and Syn tought that was that. But no. The slagging glitch picked himself up and pulled out a rifle.

„Ya fraggin'_ bitch! Yer gonna pay!_"

She grabbed her katanas just as he started firing and didged the shots. She jumped in the air, backflipped and knocked him down while landing. She knocked him out with a blunt end of the katana and took his rifle, subspacing it.

Turning around, Syn came face to chassis with Lockdown.

Lockdown, who _saw everything._

„ Lockdown..."

„ The ship. _Now._"

Syn flinched at the sound of his voice. So cold and emotionless. She helped him pick the unconcious Psydis up and he put him none too gently between his shouder spikes.

The rest of their trek to The Death's Head was filled with a tense silence and Syn suddenly found herself envying the unconcious mech dangling across her partner's shoulders. He at least did not have to endure Lockdown's silent wrath, and she was sure those scratches on his plating would buff out.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:**** I bring you chapter 5! I have no writing or updating schedule, bear with me.**

**I want to thank Firewolves16 for sticking with me trough this story. I love you so much! Yeah, He is baaaad.**

**I don't own. Only Syn.**

**Chapter V**

„A _cyberninja!_ Why the frag did ya not fraggin' tell me _yer a fraggin' cyberinja?!_"

Now Syn really envied the mech in the brig.

„Well it is not like it is all that important, is it?! There is no need to get your tailpipe in a knot!"

„But _how_ could a not tell me?! Yer a fraggin' _ninja! _Who was he? Hm?! Who was yer _sacred sensei?!_

Syn winced and stayed silent. She could practicaly _see_ the rage steaming off his plating.

„ _**ANSWER ME, SYNAESTHESIA!"**_

Syn recoiled from his anger, shocked.

Lockdown _never_ called her Synaesthesia.

It was _always_ Syn.

...Just...Syn.

She looked down at her pedes.

Sometimes she was not sure if that visor covered her flaw or her emitions. Be as it may, it will not come to her aid now. She was completely bared. Lockdown had a front seat to the storm in her mismatched optics.

„... Grand Master Yoketron."

Lockdown made a pained sound and sat on the surgery table with a loud _thump_, putting his helm in his servo.

„Figures it was 'im. It _always_ had ta be 'im."

Syn inched towards him.

„Lock-"

„_**GIT OUT! GIT OUTTA MAH WORKSHOP!"**_

A flying wrench hit the wall where Syn's helm was nanosecs ago. She flew out of the workshop and away from his insane rampage. She ran and did not stop until she reached her room.

Syn locked the door and slid onto the floor with a sigh. Leaning agains the door, she banged her helm against it, only stopping once her processors started to ring. Getting up with a sigh, she grabbed a mop and cleaned her quarters.

666

Syn knew Lockdown had cooled down once the sounds of roaring curses and smashing things quieted and the ship was engulfed in silence jet again. Slipping out of her meditative state, she cautiosly exited her room, making sure to create vibrations and warn him of her coming. Once in front of the door, she took a deep inhale and entered the red zone.

It looked like a cyclone decided to pay a visit. Mods were strewn, tools were wedged into the walls. The floor had dents Syn was sure were not there before. One of the tables was ripped clean out of the floor and was lying atop the crashed shelf.

Lockdown was sitting on the remaining table, a statue of grief and misery. He rather matched his enivronment, and Syn was certain his enivronment matched the state of his Spark.

Before she could say anything, Lockdown spoke up, his voice quiet and tired.

„ Betcha yer hatin' me rite now."

Syn exhaled in relief and shook her helm. Staniding before him, she sat on her heels and put her right hand on his knee. Her left one went up, lifting his face. Even when sitting hunched, Lockdown was at least a head taller than her. Syn had to look up to meet his tired gaze, and she did so with a gentle smile.

„You crazy fool", she whispered affectionately to him, „If I did, I would not be here."

Upon seeing Lockdown widen his beautiful crimson optics, she softly planted a chaste peck on his inked cheek. As if reading his toughts, she leaned her helm on his chassis, offlining her optics.

„You have a Spark. I can feel it."- she mumbled quietly and nuzzled into his chassis.

Lockdown went to hug her back, but hesitation and fear stilled his left arm mid-air. Noticing this, Syn gave a small chuckle, and guided his arm around her, wrapping it around her booster and wings.

Lockdown hesitated a little, still unsure how to feel and act, but in the end he tightened his grip around her.

Their embrace was broken when a screech revebrated trough the floor, startling them both.

„I guess our guest just woke up."- Syn said.

Lockdown guffaved and walked out of the workshop towards the brig, motioning for Syn to come with him, and she followed.

666

Psydis looked like someone stuck a live wire up his aft. He was clawing at the energy bars, oral lube spitting everywhere as he screeched obsenties that made no sense. Still, Syn managed to catch a few key words, such as _fraggin' little bitch, gunna frag ya so hard_ and _betcha yer a screamer._ She sneered, disgusted, at him and his antics.

Lockdown moved to stand protectively in front of her and growled. He used his vibe-text synthetizer and pretty much understood everything the psycho screamed. He grabbed him and put a stasis colar around his neck. Psydis went limp in his grip and Lockdown tossed him on the floor.

„Too bad he's wanted alive. Wish I coulda trow 'im outta mah airlock."

„ Who put a bounty on him, anyway?"

Lockdown gave her a flat look.

„Elite guard, duh. Sentimental slaggers never let me 'ave some fun."

Syn arched a brow.

„When are we handing him over?"

„Ya ask far too many questions."-Lockdown rolled his optics.

„Curiosity."

„Killed tha cat."

„I am waiting."

Lockdown groaned.

„ First thing in tha mormin'. I need ta sleep."

Lockdown walked away and his footsteps became distant. Syn spared Psydis one last glance before following suit.

Once in her berth, she curled up on her right side and let sleep overtake her, gazing at the old dreamcatcher hanged beside her berth.

666

Syn was awake long before the sunrise. She did her morning ritual of drinking turpentine tea and cleaning her quarters and decided to head down into the brig.

„Well well, if it isn't the psycho bitch."

„ The only psycho here is _you_, Psydis."

Syn leaned on the wall across the cell and its occupant and slid onto the cold, steel floor.

„ You are lucky we have to hand you over fully functional. Lockdown would love to ditch your mutilated shell trough the airlock."

Psydis snorted.

„Pfft. Whateva'. An' don't think I didn't recognize ya, psycho bitch. Or shoul Ah say, Black Terror."

Syn's optics dimmed as memories rushed in, flooding her senses. Smells, colors and sounds of fire and screams and laughter. Her _own_ laughter.

„Who sent you?"

Psydis regarded her with a hungry stare as she shifted.

„ Take a wild guess. She was real pissed when she heard ya got outta Tha Stockade."

Syn offlined her optics. Oily tears threatened to spill out and unveil her pain for the world to see. She forced them down into her coolant system.

„Stormwind..."- she whispered brokenly.

„ Yeah. Tha crazy billionare wants ta see ya real deal. Not sure why."

It all seemed so far away now. Syn knew it was only fifty thousand years ago, but is seemed like a long forgotten dream.

The beautiful seeker's grin when they blew up the old Twin Towers of Iacon. That same seeker's cold smirk when Syn was dragged into The Stockade. The pain. The _betrayal._ Syn spent ten thousand years in that pit of a building. She lived in depression and hatred for three hundred more. Master Yoketron saved her life. He saved _her._

Echoes of the past bit like ammonia tea in her throat.

_-Viva la revolucion!_

_Click._

_**Boom!**_

„ Viva la revolicion..."

_-Haha!_

_-Hurry, Stormy!_

_-Right behind ya, Synny!_

_-Down with the Cybertronian government!_

„Viva la revolucion..."

_-Together forever, right, Storm?_

_-Together forever, Syn!_

„Viva..."

_-Are ya sure this is safe?"_

_-Of course not! That's why we're doin' it!"_

„...la..."

_-Storm...why?_

_-...clean record. Nothing personal, Synaesthesia._

_**-STORMWIND!**_

„...revolucion."

„Hey, Black Terror! Snap outta it, yer creepin' me out!"

Syn snapped out of her memories when Psydis clapped his servos loudly. She checked her chronometer and stood up. It was morning already, and by the lack of the sounds, Lockdown was already up and contacting te local Elite Guard team.

She walked towards the exit, but hesitated in the doorway. She turned around and looked the mech in the brig straight in the optic.

„Tell Stormwind The Black Terror is dead. She deactivated the day she was betrayed."

She briskly walked out, ignoring the whistle directed at her slightly swaying hips.

She came beside Lockdown when the screen lit up and a mech with a dark face and a blue flat visor showed up.

„ Officer Jazz here, how may we help ya?"

It sounded like he rehearsed it billion times. He most probably did.

„ Skip tha formalities ninja, we got yer mech."

Jazz's demandor changed instantly.

„Oh, it's _you._ Should have known ya would've take him up. Wait...we?"

Syn moved closer to the console and waved.

„Pleasure to meet you."

Jazz seemed completely at the loss of words now, but in the end just shrugged and whispered something to someone off-screen.

„Okay, I'm getting there. No funny bussines, bounty hunter."

„Whatever."- Lockdown growled and ended the call.

„So, that is the_ other_ ninja, I assume?"

Lockdown glared at her and groaned positive, then brushed past her and stopmed away to lower the ramp. Syn sighed and came beside him.

They waited.

666

Jazz came shortly after. He was alone.

„Bounty hunter."

„ Ninjabot."

They glared at each other and Jazz turned to Syn, offering her his servo.

„Glad to meet ya, miss..?"

„Synaesthesia. Pleasure is only mine."

„Heh. Quite a paintjob you have there. I like it. It's stylish."

Lockdown cleared his vocalizer and stomped his foot impatiently.

„If yer done, the psycho is waiting."

Jazz gave him a flat stare.

„ Whatever, bring him here."

Lockdown pointedly turned away and growled, stomping up the ramp. Before Syn could follow, Jazz grabbed her upper arm.

„Who are ya?"

Syn looked him up and down and remembered Lockdown said he was a flaw sympathizer. She was safe.

„ A flawed cyberninja who has no idea how she ended up here."

Jazz choked on pure air.

„S-Sorry?!"

„ No need to be, I am not sorry."

„What kind of flaw?"

„...Crossed senses."

Jazz whistled low. Lockdown came into view, dragging a suprisingly cooperative Psydis behind him. Jazz walked over and took the chain of the stasis colar, slapping credits into Lockdown's awaiting palm.

„ See ya around."

„ Doubtful."

Lockdown shot him a slag-eating grin and Jazz huffed, turning away and dragging Psydis to his short distance ship.

Lockdown and Syn waited until the small vehicle rose up and flew away, then walked back in.

„Whoot! Three thousand five hundred creds! Better than tha last time!"- Lockdown cheered. Syn cracked a small grin and playfully tickled his side. Lockdown jerked and stared at her in shock.

„Oooh, is that tha way ya wanna play? Okaay..."

He lounged at her and she jelped. After a brief tussle filled with laughter, he tackled her to the floor, straddling her abdomen. He grabbed her hands and held them above her helm with the bunt end of his hook. His left hand sneaked down to her wings and he smartly skimmed his fingers over the flat surface.

The responce was instant. Syn arched her back and trashed wildly, laughing so hard her tank started aching.

The game went on for some time. Lockdown was taking great delight in her gasps and guffavs.

„L-_Lockdown_! S-Sto-hohoh-op!P- please-bwah_ahahaha! Mercy, p-uh-lease!_"_ she wheezed.

Lockdown grinned and moved his hand to her neck. It looked so smooth and soft and fragile. Adding his hand in holding her down, he suddenly and without thinking dipped down and licked her throat.

Syn gasped as a powerful pleasure shot trough her. She stuggled to free herself, but it was futile. Lockdown had a death grip on her. She bit back a moan as he kissed his way up her jawline to her round audio.

„L-Lockdown...Please...please stop..."- she whispered, blushing madly.

The only response was Lockdown pressing her down into the floor harder.

„_Lockdown!"_\- she managed to scream, terrified out of her processors.

Lockdown came to an abrupt stop. Pulling away, he saw her widened visor and got up quickly.

„Slag... sorry, kiddo. Ya hurt?"

Getting up as well, Syn walked over to him and took his hand into hers. She shook her head and Lockdown exhaled.

„I am sorry... I should not have began that."

„Nah. Come."

Lockdown led her to the ruined workshop and sat down on the table. Syn sat down beside him.

„...Sorry kid. I had no right ta do that."

Syn smiled and leaned onto his massive arm.

„It's okay. I understand."

Lockdown smiled as well and put his arm around her shoulder.

Syn looked around and sighed.

„We really shoud clean this mess up."- but she snuggled deeper under the crook of his arm.

Once again, he was shocked by how small and fragile she was. It was as if she was made out of glass, destined to break into tiny little pieces if she fell.

Lockdown silently woved to himself that if she ever fell, he would catch her before she hit the ground and broke.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:**** School sucks, gonna write anytime I can. We're about to be bombarded by tests.**

**Firewolves16, is that a request? I'd be glad to add that scene in some of the future chapters!**

**I know Lockdown feels ooc, but it is somewhat important in this story. I'll try to make him as Lockdown-like as possible. I altered his flaw a bit, so there is only one frequency he can hear, a frequency of Syn's voice. Yes, Cyndi knows I'm writing this, I asked for her permission on deviantart. Thanks for the support!**

**I don't own. Only Syn.**

**Chapter VI**

Synaesthesia had many weird personal rituals. Waking up in the middle of the night, spending unreasonable amount of time by the water and blaring music all around were only some of them.

However, it was not in her shedule to wake up by rolling to the floor with a jelp because of a mild fuel pump failure.

A sigh. Mental counting to three. _Not going to scream, not going to scream...frag it all, I'm going to scream._

„_**LOCKDOWN! STOP YOUR INSUFFERABLE SNORING **__**NOW!**_"

The only response was even louder snoring.

Another sigh. Syn got up and sneaked out of her room, across the hall, and into captain's quarters.

To be frank, Syn was not really allowed to go into Lockdown's room. However, he snored worse than a Predacon with a loose intake valve.

She tiptoed to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, turning him around. No avail. Lockdown just resumed snoring. After a few more futile tries, she gave up and silently made her way towards the ship's kitchen. She made herself turpentine tea and checked her chronometer. 3 hours past midnight. She sighed for the third time that night and perched atop the counter, sipping her tea slowly. It was a bit too hot for her tastes, but it would cool quickly.

Finding herself very, very bored all of a sudden ( and Lockdown was _still_ thundering away), she pulled a sketchpad from her subspace.

Syn had many hobbies as well. Singing was a talent her new voice granted. Finding trash and turning it in a beautiful ornament was another thing she greatly enjoyed.

But what she _really_ loved to do was painting. She painted ever since she could remember, and kept her skills sharp by sketching. It was something she could never tire of. Like, _ever._

She looked down at the pad. Lockdown's sketchy grinning face stared back at her. She frowned as her thoughts drifted to the bounty hunter. Never in her mind would she think she would consider a big, mismatching, selfish metal Frankenstein dool attractive. But she did. Lockdown was brave, strong, cunning and, oh to the Pit with it all, but Lockdown was _handsome._ Twisted, mismatching, dark, tall, talented and so handsome.

Her thoughts backtracked to that moment she struggled to keep under lock and key. Alas, it resurfaced anyway. His long legs straddling her abdomen, his arms holding her down, rendering her immobile, the pure _thrill _of the moment.

And his mouth. Good _Primus_ his mouth. Having it slide over her throat and jawline was so..._purple._

Syn shook her helm violently as she started to feel arousal creeping up on her. She did not want to think about it. Yet she did at the same time. Was it normal?

No. Nothing about her was normal. She was not like _other_ fembots. Other_, real _fembots spent their time pampering themselves, bringing their frames to the point of utter perfection. Syn only took so long as to clean herself once in two days and _never_ put facepaint on.

_Real _fembots were _sleek_. Syn was most certainly not. She had an extremely curvy figure and detested her round cheeks and wide hips.

_Real _fembots had a nice, petite, pouty lips and round optics. Syn had small, razor thin lips and almond shaped optics.

All in all, Syn _loathed_ her body. She loathed to looks she got, she hated the way her tighs touched. All of that self-hate ate at her, tasting bitter just like ammonia tea.

Sighing, she saved the sketchy picture in her scraps folder and shuffled quetly to her room. She sat on her berth and gazed at the stars and nebulas outside of the Milky way. Two red clouds of gas danced a passionate dance and united together as one. Somehow, she still held onto the silver of hope that her Spark would one day be like one of those nebulas.

666

It was safe to say morning refueling on The Death's Head was the most quiet and tame refueling session during the day. Lockdown was groggy and snappy, not at all a morning person, and Syn relished in silence and mutual sleepiness.

As she worked around the ship's tiny kitchen, she was bombarded by a sudden idea.

An irrational, stupid, likely suicidal, but possibly possible idea.

She was going to get Lockdown back on the ninja path.

Morning grogginess replaced by a feeling of positivity and decisive confidence, she doubled the coolant in the kettle and put it on heating. She reached the shelf and took the turpentine jar. Taking two sponges, she dumped them into the jug. Turning away, she resumed cutting the energon noodles and making the axel grease dip.

The kettle whistled and she took it off the heating and divided the coolant into two separate mugs. Taking the sponges out, she poured turpentine in the coolant. Breakfast completed, she filled two plates with noodles and cups with turpentine and put them on the trays. Taking each in both of her servos, she balanced the axel grease dip on her helm and resumed walking to the workshop. Living on a small ship meant they had to improvise. The matter of space was solved by conversing. The workshop had a secondary function- a dining room.

Lockdown was seated at one of the surgery tables, sprawled over the chair and sleepily regarding a datapad in his palm.

Hoping this was not the last thing she was going to do, Syn gingerly placed a tray in front of him.

"Good morning, Lockdown."

Lockdown looked up, his half offlined optics focusing on her nervously smiling face. Far too sleepy to be perceptive and observant, Lockdown grunted a reply and she seated herself across the table and started to refuel. She stole glances at him and he put his datapad away, finally noticing a meal in front of him. Syn watched as he straightened and his vision fell on the tray. He did a double take when he noticed a mug.

A mug of _tea._

Lockdown stared at the cup. He stared at the fidgeting Syn. He stared at the cup for some more.

Syn was seriously afraid for her life as of right now.

Lockdown was staring.

_Staring._

At least he was not breaking her into utter scrap. She relished every moment of her prolonged life.

Then something unexpected and surprising happened.

Lockdown shakily picked up the mug and sipped the turpentine. She smiled at him, reveling in her first victory and successful first secret lesson. Lockdown put the cup down and smiled uncertainly back.

The rest of the meal was spent in silence.

666

Maintaining the space ship, no matter how small, was a hard and complex job. Not to mention utterly tedious.

Syn sighed as she plucked jet another one of the space barnacles off the ship's hull. She looked down at the flailing little slagger and tossed it into the container by her side. The Death's head's fire hoses for burning off space barnacles were malfunctioning. The only way to remove them was by hand.

The lotion she dumped over herself helped. She did not have to worry about infecting herself and becoming a CPU-eating cyber zombie.

Oh how she took that mental statement back.

The last conscious thought that formed in her mind before she fell victim to the barnacle that struggled free from her slippery grip and attached itself to her unprotected cheek was _Is my luck for __real__?!_

Lockdown found her sometime later. Or, rather, she found him. The big oaf was hunched over the open panel, repairing the glitch in the ship's orienting systems.

"Yer done already?"

The Syn-like creature snarled.

Lockdown snapped around.

"What the-"

He dodged the swipe of an infected claw by millimeters.

"_Really?!_ Can't ya do anything rite?!"

Lockdown growled, running to the aft of the ship and away from the snarling mess that was Syn. She followed him angrily. Lockdown cursed under his breath. He ripped the panel clean off the ship and dug his arms elbow-deep in the bare wires and circuitry. He had no time to run inside and ignite the engines by command. He would have to wire-start the old bucket.

Syn was so close now. Lockdown doubled his efforts and tried to ignite the ship's boosters again.

One spark flew.

Two sparks.

Three sparks.

Syn was only a few meters away.

Lockdown's hands shook as he desperately tried again.

The boosters blasted heat on Syn's mutilated body. The barnacles fried and fell of her plating. She screeched as the fire melted all the way down to her Spark-chamber. Lockdown powered the ship down and Syn looked at him through a haze, her face expressionless, the melted and broken glass dripping off her chassis. She fell on her knees and to the side.

The last thing she felt was not cold, rocky asteroid ground, but a pair of strong arms. And at that last, hazy moment, she felt _safe._

666

The harsh lights cast an eerie glow on the exposed Spark-chamber of the unconscious fembot. Lockdown's digits worked quickly, hook replaced with a claw mod. He kept uttering curses and threats at the silent femme.

"Don't. Ya. _Dare._ Don't ya_ dare, ya hear me?_ Ya 'ave no rights ta leave me. C'mon kid! _Fight!_"

Grabbing another tool of the surgery table, he carefully cleaned the chamber of the broken and melted cockpit glass and started rewiring her Spark-plugs.

Desperate, he started whispering things he did not whisper in a long time.

"Primus, ya slagger, don't ya _dare _take 'er away from me! Nobot says ya can take bots I care about away!"

Very soon his whispered curses became screamed prayers.

"Primus, _please! Please keep 'er alive. _If ya exist and if ya _care_, hear me out jus' this one time! _**LET HER LIVE!**_

He took a shaky breath and resumed repairing the femme before him.

" Thy will be done…"

666

Syn came to with a start. She winced at the processor-ache splitting her head in two. She ever-so-slowly turned her helm to the side.

Lockdown was there, helm buried in his big arms as her snoozed lightly. For once he was silent. Not even a snort came from him. Syn watched him with a smile for a while and placed her servo on his shouler, gently shaking him awake.

"Lockdown…"

Lockdown snapped awake and his optics fell in her. He was up instantly, running a full systems check.

"Slag, ya okay kiddo? Ya hurtin'? Anythin' snappin'?"

Syn squeaked, alarmed, as Lockdown ran his digits against the new cockpit glass, carefully kneading it and asking millions of questions in a second.

"If anythin' feels odd, ya gotta tell me! Anything?"

"Lockdown!"

Lockdown stopped dead.

"Huh?"

Syn gently smiled.

"I am fine."

Lockdown stared some at her, his brows narrowed in utter _worry._ He sniffed, wiping at his optics. He gingerly took her in his arms and sat on her berth and pulled his legs up, leaning against the wall. He gently placed her on top of his frame and she widened her bare optics. She affectionately wrapped her arms around his neck and took off his helmet, nuzzling the scars lovingly. His big hands rubbed up and down her green booster and she straddled his hips.

The embrace was tentative, light and chaste. Lockdown buried his face in her neck cables and inhaled deeply. The smell was so unique, so _Syn._ She pulled slightly away to gaze into his beautiful optics.

"You were crying."

That was not a question, but a statement. Lockdown wiped at his optics and met her gaze with affection, worry and, dare he say, _love._

Syn felt tightening in her throat and her optics were clouded with tears of joy. She forced them down in her coolant system. No tears.

…Was it just her or was it suddenly _very hot _in her room? Lockdown was so close, cupping his booster, his claw mod trailing up to the back of her helm, enveloping it in warm security.

She felt his unique scent. It was so Lockdown-like. She felt smells of dust and different types of destronium. It was slightly spicy, the solder and scorches on his mismatched frame a monument to his gipsy-like life. She felt it pulling her towards him, begging, wanting, _craving_. Closer and closer, until her lips touched his.

Lockdown moaned and pulled her closer still, his chassis flush against hers. She felt her faceplate heat up and offlined her optics. The kiss deepened, her lips molding against his. Her upper lip was slightly pouty by nature and it melted against his pulled-in one. His bottom one filled the space under her upper one, massaging the razor-thin lip with newfound fortitude. They fit _perfectly._ As if their lips were made for each other.

Syn wrapped her thin arms around his thick neck and moaned lightly into the kiss. Lockdown smiled slightly and carefully held her, as if afraid to break her.

The kiss was broken and Syn gasped, looking in his optics. Smoldering flames stared back at her. Her servo trailed hesitantly down to his hip, caressing the wheel. The other one guided his servo to her wing.

Their first kiss was chaste. The one that took place was deep, hard, _desperate_.

" Easy kid. Yer still fragile."

She smiled at him and his worry and he licked her bottom lip, asking for permission to deepen the kiss. She parted her lips slightly and his glossa explored her mouth, dancing a passionate dance with her own one. She moaned and cupped his cheek. His servo trailed down to her legs and caressed her curvy, smooth thigh. She gasped silently as he tweaked a wire in her hip seam and her servo rubbed his hips and spikes in response.

Reality performed a spin and Syn found herself on her back, Lockdown towering above her. He gazed into her optics with worry, his left hand worshiping her imperfect frame, his right one holding him up by elbow. His digits worked their way down to her cod and she gasped as her kneaded the seam between her thigh and panel. The question in his optics was obvious. She nodded lightly in response and her panel opened, her face flushing as she lay exposed before him.

Lockdown dipped down and wrapped his mouth around her port with gusto, running his glossa over it. Syn's helm lolled to the left as she writhed beneath him. Her gasps and breathy moans were the sweetest thing Lockdown ever heard.

„Mmmm-oh! L-Lockdown...Please..."

Lockdown looked up and she pulled him back up, kissing him full on the lips. She heard a snap of the panel and they connected with a moan and a shudder.

Oooh, it was a tight fit. But _Primus_ if they did not mold into each other perfectly. Syn finally understood what _made for each other_ meant.

The pleasure built up as they rocked together. Syn anchored herself to Lockdown as he nibbled her neck. The explosion happened far too early and far too late at the same time. Syn saw white as she overloaded.

The small gasp that escaped Syn was the most erotic thing Lockdown experienced. The revalation that he was the cause of that gasp pushed him over the edge.

They slumped together in a tangle of limbs. Lockdown rolled to the side, pulling a tired Synaesthesia close to his chassis, enveloping her in a warm embrace. He slowly disconnected from her and she heaved a sigh, burying herself into his arms.

„What now?"

Lockdown looked down at her as she glanced up. He smiled and pecked her lips tenderly and put his chin on top of her helm.

„Now, we sleep."

He _felt_ Syn smile back and kiss his chassis.

Minutes later, they were sound asleep in her berth.

And for once, Lockdown had no nightmares.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N****:Pfft haven't written in a long while school sucks and artist's block is a killer. Here's some smut.**

**Don't own. Only Syn.**

**Chapter VII**

„_**WHAT THE FRAG ARE YA DOIN' UP THERE?!"**_

Syn was snapped out of her happy-meditation-time as Lockdown hollered from below. Sighing deeply, she leaned down to watch him flail his arms and steam away like a turbo lion. It was quite hard to make out what he was bellowing, seeing as she was perched atop of one of the highest points on the ship's interior.

The ceiling.

Still, she managed to catch a few words, such as _git off mah roof, tha Pit can't ya do yer ninjing on tha floor,_ and _... gunna break!_

„Don't worry. I won't break."

„_Not ya, ya idiot, mah ship! Git of 'fore ya break sumthing!"_

Sighing, a small smile gracing her lips, she flung herself so she hanged upside down. She grinned from audio to audio as Lockdown came up to her.

„Hello!"

„Dun ya 'hello!' ta meh! Ya break sumthin', ya fraggin' pay the fixin'! Now git down!"

Syn tilted her helm. It looked quite odd while hanging upside down. She loosened her grip on the rafter and let herself slip a few inches. Lockdown lounged after her, trying to catch her by reflex. Syn laughed.

„Haha! I knew you cared for my wellbeing!"

Lockdown flushed a bit and huffed, crossing his arms and looking away.

„Hmph! Ya whish!"

Syn gave one last chuckle and she leaned forward, pecking his inked cheek.

„Well, if you want me down, you must catch me first."

Lockdown gave her a puzzled look, his brow ridge going up, as Syn shot him a seductive smile and disappeared into the darkness of the rafters. Lockdown catched on quickly and, chuckling darkly and a predatory grin gracing his sharp features, hauled himself up on the rafters.

It was really dark up there. The lights illuminating the ship were installed on the bottom side of the rafters, so it left the space between the rafters and the ceiling swallowed in darkness.

Syn came behind Lockdown and slightly brushed his hip before disappearing in the shadows again. Lockdown spun around and nearly fell down, and Syn had to suppress the urge to giggle. The old rust-bucket had no balance whatsoever! They would have to begin his recreation from a scratch. Ah well. Syn always liked the challenges.

She offlined her visor so the aqua glow wouldn't give her away. Sliding gracefully along the rafters, she carefully maneuvered around Lockdown, who strained to feel the faintest of vibrations.

Finally feeling something, Lockdown spun around and nearly catched her. His servo grazed her wing and she felt a shiver course trough her, making her slightly slow down. She managed to dart away and Lockdown cursed in frustration.

Syn took hold of the upper rafters and crawled upside down. Stopping once she was above Lockdown, she hung herself by her knees and breathed down his neck. Lockdown took hold of her instantly, grinning wickedly down at her. It was an awkward position, he was grabbing her by her arms and she hung upside down, looking deeply in his optics, for once able to do so without looking up.

The flames behind his spindle optics stared back fiercely and she kissed him lightly, freeing her arms and sliding them around his neck. She took off his helmet and hung it on the rafter above. Lockdown took hold of her visor, popping it off from her optics, subspacing it. He kissed her again, more passionately this time, slipping his glossa in her mouth. It was what humans called "a Spiderman kiss".

Breaking the kiss, Syn gave a little sigh, smiling at him. Lockdown took hold of her curvy hips and supported her as she swung her legs down, wrapping them around his waist. Wrapping their arms around each other, they kissed again, loving the way their bodies molded against one another.

"Syn..."

"Hm?"

"I- oooh…"

Lockdown moaned slightly as she fondled his shoulder spikes, forgetting what he planned to say in an instant.

"Hehe, Lockdown… you loveable idiot…"

Lockdown chuckled a little and his servo trailed down daringly, cupping her aft. Syn moaned quietly, burying her helm in her neck cables as he tapped her interface panel and the exostructure folded back, exposing her to his sneaking digits. He took his time seducing her, working her down to the helpless, moaning pile of steaming metal.

Syn felt him chuckle and nuzzle her neck, cupping her booster. He opened his cod piece and his jack extended, electricity already dancing against her abdomen. She opened her mismatched optics.

"Wait."

Lockdown stopped his administrations and looked down at her quzzicaly. She pulled back slightly to look into his optics.

"I want to try something. May I?"

Lockdown smirked a bit and stroked her wing comfortingly.

"Sure thing, kid."

Syn untangled her arms from his neck and took hold of the rafters above.

"Mirror me."

Lockdown frowned, curiosity taking the better of him. He hung himself in front of her, her legs still tight around him. Syn pulled her left leg from him and let it dangle a bit. Lockdown wrapped his left leg around her curvy hips, letting the other one wrap around her own under them. Syn let her left servo hold her up as she wound her right one around his neck. Lockdown mirrored her.

"Do you know what this is?"

"…Yeah…infinity chain."

"Mmhmm. My favorite position of Circuit-Su lovemaking."

Lockdown dipped down to steal a kiss from her and she eagerly kissed him back. They connected after a bit struggle caused by the odd position. Once they did, Syn could practically _taste_ Lockdown's arousal. And _oh,_ how it sounded good. Pleasure shot trough her and she mewled as he hit her sweet spot.

Syn was the first one to overload. She struggled to hold on, desperately trying not to slip and fall off. Lockdown nuzzled and licked her neck, shuddering from the warm heat steaming off her shaking plating.

"Let go, kid. I gottcha."

Overload crashed over her like a tide. She clung to Lockdown, gasping. Never in her existence did she felt so _alive._

Lockdown overloaded shortly after, pleasure coursing through him as he tightened his grip on her, the rafter he was dangling from denting. He growled in her neck and the vibrations shoved her helm-first into another overload. She desperately held onto Lockdown, her optics wide and bright, condensation rolling down her neon frame. She panted and relaxed as Lockdown slowly lowered them down, disconnecting himself from her. He held her as she recover from her other overload and lowered them on the floor, harsh lights making their frame glisten. He carried her to her room and she typed in her pass code. He lied down on her berth and she sprawled herself on top of him, smiling lazily. He kissed the top of her helm as she drifted off into sweet recharge, the steady beating of his Spark lulling her to sleep.

666

The morning catched Syn snoozing on top of Lockdown's chassis. She yawned as she came to, looking up at her partner with a lazy smile. He looked down at her fondly and she crawled up to him and gave him a sluggish good-morning kiss on the lips.

"Hungry?"

"Pit yeah."

Syn laughed tiredly and got off, stretching her arms above her helm and moaning as her joints popped back into place. She turned around and smirked as she noticed Lockdown staring at her intensely, a predatory grin on her face.

"Enjoying the show, partner?"

"Pit yeah."

Syn sat on the edge of the low berth and rubbed his thigh. Lockdown pulled her back on top of him and she yelped, looking down at him playfully.

"Mind telling me why I get the idea you are hungry for something else beside morning refuel?"

"Pit yeah."

"Is that all you are able to say this morning?"

Lockdown nuzzled her neck, grinning wickedly.

"…Pit yeah."

Syn pouted and slapped his wandering arm, crawling off the berth for the second time. However, before she could stand up and walk away, he sat up and wound his arms around her waist from behind, dragging her back.

"_Ack!_ Lockdown!"

Syn laughed and struggled, trashing in his grip as he trapped her under his frame, taking hold of her pushing servos and trapping them in his servo. His mouth tickled her cockpit and she forced the tears into her coolant system, laughing so hard her tank ached.

"M-Mercy Lockdown_, please!"_

Lockdown grinned and put his mouth on her chassis, blowing harsh air, making her laugh even harder.

"Hm, let me think 'bout it. No."

"Gwah! Let go-hohoho, you moron! _Bwahahahahaha!"_

Lockdown pulled back to leer down at her.

"And what are ya willin' ta give in return?"

Syn gulped and smiled meekly up at him.

"Um…I am sure we can work something out."

Lockdown smirked and let her go, hauling her up and swinging her over his shoulder.

"Hey! What gives?"

Lockdown carried her out of the room and stomped down the hall.

"Breakfast."

Syn groaned and slumped against his back, wary of the spikes, but smiled anyway. Suck a perfect morning.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:**** Hating this. Stupid rainy March always brings bad luck and writer's block. Just my luck.**

**Yep, Firewolves16, every ninja adores that position.**

**Don't own. Only Syn.**

**Chapter VIII**

To say that it was hard getting Lockdown on the right path would be an understatement of an _eon_. Especially if he was completelly oblivious to that fact. Yeah. Syn hated every moment of tense fear and expectation whenever she put tea in front of him. Thankfully, she got out of those situations unharmed and satisfied.

„Spar me."

Lockdown glanced at the neon fembot and arched a brow ridge.

„Come again?"

A sigh. Syn pinched the bridge of her nose.

„Spar with me. Please."

Lockdown grunted and hauled himself up from his captain chair.

„Sure thing, kid. Been itchin' to stretch mahself fer a while now."

Stretching, preparing for the sparring match, joints popped in place on both sides. After that was out of the way, Syn took a defensive stance. Lockdown dipped into an offensive one.

„What're tha rules?"

Syn looked at him, puzzled by the question. She caught on fairly qickly.

„Ah. Well, no weapons. Only metallikato techinques. The fist one who pins the other wins."

Lockdown looked her up and down.

„And the prize?"

Syn gave a sigh. Unbelievable.

Ah well.

Guess it would take a lot of work and time to get him to spar just for the sake of polishing his fighting.

„If I win, you take me to the nearest organic habitated planet. And if you win..."

A gulp.

„...an all-night uplink session."

Lockdown grinned wickedly and Syn's traitorous body just _had_ to shiver in a damned anitcipation. Dipping down, she waited for him to make a first move, already calculating possible defenses of the most likely attacks.

Lockdown lounged at her and swung his left arm, aiming a chop to her ankle. She chopped down and countered his attack. That left his right side unguarded, and she tried to kick him, but he took hold of her leg and spun her, trying to get her to stumble. She jumped up and used a spinning momentrum to kick him square in the faceplates.

"Oof!"

Lockdown let go and stumbled back, rubbing at his face. Recovering quickly, he dodged the blow aiming for his shins. It left his right leg inprotected and Syn threw him to the ground. Sitting atop his chest, she tsked at him.

„Oh Lockdown... We've got a long way to go."

Sneering, Lockdown got up with ease despite her weight and she slid into his lap. His fingers sneaked to her wings. She slapped them away.

„Ah no, Lockdown. I won the match. Meaning: you take me to the nearest organic planet available."

Lockdown groaned as Syn got off his lap and offered him her servo. He took it and she hauled him up. His shin throbbed, the damn femme was strong! Talk about decieving apperiances.

„Earth, then."

Strolling to the console, he punched in the coordinates. Syn stumbled and (again!) crashed in the shelf.

„You're doing that on purpose!"

„Yep."

666

Syn looked around in awe. What little of Earth she managed to see before her accident was beautiful, but that was not during sunny days. The lake glistened magicaly and the forest was alive with sounds of birds. Cool breeze blew, making the grass sway, tickling her pedes. She looked over her shouler, gracing Lockdown with one of her dazzling smiles, and slowly dipped her pedes into the water. Walking to the centre until only her helm was visible, she swam in the lake, overjoyed by the beauty of life this planet offered.

Something rustled. Syn whipped around and dove down, hiding under the surface. Lockdown hid amongst the trees, using his stealth mode.

„Syn? Is that ya?"

Syn slowly emerged, water dripping off her pointed crests.

„Jazz! Is that really you?"

The chrome colored ninja grinned. „It's me real deal, Syn! Ya alone?"

Syn turned her helm around, glancing at the trees where Lockdown hid. Figuring he did not want to be found, she sent a private message to him. :May I?:

:Sure thing, kid. Waitin' fer ya on the ship.:

Getting out of the water, Syn smiled at Jazz suspiciously. He was practicaly bouncing up and down with supressed excitement.

„Come! I gotta show ya something!"

Syn yelped when he snatched her servo, leading her quickly trough the woods. Once they reached their destination, which was a big clearing, Jazz let her go.

„Prowl! Love, are ya here?"

Syn arched a browridge as she heard rustling in the trees. A black and gold bot landed in front of them. He had a visor similar to her own, but it was thinner.

Was that...Master Yoketron's helmet?

„This is the fembot I told ya about, remember. Syn."

Prowl looked at her and she waved, giving a small smile.

„Hello, Prowl."

Prowl turned to Jazz and Syn observed as they talked, too hushed and quiet to hear. After a moment, Prowl walked over to her and bowed. She bowed back respectfully.

„Hello, Syn. My name is Prowl. Were you trained by Master Yoketron as well?"

„Yes, I was, although I never finished my training."

„Hmm."

They talked for hours, sitting crosslegged on the grass. Jazz departed after some time, saying he recieved a call and was needed.

„So, Syn, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly is your flaw?"

„Well, I have synaesthesia, otherwise known as union of senses. One of the arms on the line glitched and knocked a blade on my forehelm, sewering all the sense wires. They tried to repair me but wired me wrongly. The pain and stress caused a rupture of an optic fiber in my right optic, so I'm mismatched. My visor covers it. I can see music, hear colors, taste emotions and many other impossible combinations."

She took the visor off and placed it gently on the ground beside her leg.

„I wouldn't consider that a hindrance – being able to hear colors or taste emotions would be interesting! Although, I don't live with it, I imagine it does have its downsides. Anger and hate probably taste foult to you."

Prowl took her hand in both of his and she tilted her helm, looking at him curiosly.

„There's nothing _wrong_ with you, Syn. I'm sorry you were treated poorly by those repair bots. I'm blind, myself. No optics, no visual processors. Everything else works fine."

He took off his own visor and Syn's brows shot up.

Prowl had no optics. No glass, no sockets,_ nothing_. Only smooth ashen metal."

„...Wow. I'd never guess. But you know, I must say I like you without the visor better. It sounds like you. Very purple."

Prowl's mouth curled to the side.

„Color is something I never fully grasped. They are only vibrations to me."

Syn slapped her forehelm.

„Gah! Sorry, that's one of the downsides. I always associated purple with beauty and passion. So, in my optics, you're beautiful. But I must ask you-what is it like to have ordinary senses?"

Prowl burst out laughung and Syn grinned.

„I hope you forgive my amusement, 'ordinary senses' sounds so strange when directed at me. I like it."

Prowl looked like he was staring at her. If he had optics, Syn was sure he would be looking right into hers.

„Taste and smell do coincide somewhat, but none of my other senses cross. I don't hear anything when I run my palm across the grass nor do I taste emotions. What's it like to have senses that _do_ cross?"

Syn wrecked her processors to find a way to explain her perception of the world in the simplest of ways.

„Hmm...Well, imagine feeling love and tasting your favorite flux cake. Or... being hateful and feeling a taste of ammonia tea. And every sound and emotion has its own color, so music can be a whirlwind of colors or simply a one-colored plane."

Prowl's mouth twitched upwards in a small smile.

„Anyone who calls that a_ flaw_ needs to get their processors examined. I don't think anyone sees the world quite like you."

Suddenly, his mouth fell and thinned.

„Jazz told me of your...partner."

Syn bit her lip and frowned in worry.

„Yes...I know everything. Lockdown told me. He... I know it's weird, but I simply cannot hate him for his deeds. I think that human proverb is rubbing off on me-love people when they least deserve it, because that is when they need it the most."

Prowl's opticless visage relaxed. „It's not my job to police who you love, Syn. I am not your parent nor commanding officer. Just...keep in mind that Lockdown has batrayed the cyber-ninja cause."

Syn took his hand in her own and stroked his golden fingers soothingly. She smiled even as she knew he could not see it, but she was sure he could hear it in her voice. „I promise to be careful, Prowl. I'm trying to get him on the right path, our path. It may take a long time, but I'm willing to wait."

Looking where his optics should be, she added: „I would love if we remained in contact. It looks like we both need some sane conversing once in a while."

Grabbing their visors and getting up, they bowed to each other.

„Goodbye, Prowl."

„Good luck."

Syn nodded and made affirmative noise, and he dashed trough the trees, disappearing from sight. She smiled broadly, transformed, and shot trough the skies until she reached the ship.

Entering, she looked around, calling out to Lockdown. She found him in the console room, scrooling trough The Feed. Creeping up behind him, she grinned devilishly.

„BOO!"

„GAH!"

Syn burst out laughing as Lockdown jumped out of his armor, holding her sides and shaking with mirth.

„Haha, very funny, kid."Lockdown grumbled, glaring at her. „Where were ya?"

Syn calmed down, but a grin was still plastered on her face.

„Talked to Prowl."

Brushing past a dumbstruck bounty hunter, she procceded to the ship's kitchen, making tea for them.

„Wait a sec! With _Prowl?!"_

Syn turned to him. „Yeah, with Prowl. Tea?"

Lockdown accepted the steaming cup, shaking his helm. Syn perched atop the counter and sipped.

„Never gonna figure ya out, kid, I swear..."

Syn smiled and regarded him above the rim of her cup as he drank.

„Gotta new bounty for a high price, kid. Wana come?"

Washing out their empty cups, Syn shook her helm. „No, I'll pass this one. The thrill of the chase is good, but I don't think selling bots off is really my thing."

Lockdown shrugged his massive shoulders. „ Ah well, 'kay then. Yer at the loss." He pressed his chassins to her booster, his hands creeping around her waist. „Ah know yer _my_ thing."

„Gah! Lockdown! Is interfacing all you can think about?" Syn complained, blushing madly.

His glossa darted out to lave her round audio and she shuddered as pleasure shot trough her. „Now, stop whinin'."

Gasping in indignation, Syn wriggled, slapping his arm as it wandered lower. „Hey! I don't whine, I _complain!_ There is a differenc –mmph!"

Syn melted into the kiss and Lockdown grinned, lifting her on the counter and guiding her legs around his waist.

„You primitive idiot." She smiled.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:**** This one is kinda song-themed. I have no posting/writing shedule, I just write as inspiration comes.**

**I don't own. Only Syn.**

_666_

_So with the fire still burning bright,_

_I wanna gaze into your light._

_If I could see my fortune there,_

_You know how flames can hypnotize._

_Do I even dare to speak out your name for fear_

_It sounds like, like a lover?_

-Poets of the Fall, „Cradled in love"

_666_

**Chapter IX**

The stars gleamed and swirled silently trough the space. The Earth's satellite, Moon, Syn believed, spun around its planet, moving across its eons old path. None of this mattered to the couple residing in the red spaceship.

Syn snuggled closer to Lockdown and he placed his chin on top of her helm, shifting a bit to wrap his arms around her small frame. She sighed, nuzzling into his chassis and offlining her optics. The red light of Lockdown's gaze was the only thing illuminating the room, and she stared up at him, bathing in the light. Lockdown swooped down and kissed her softly. Syn smiled sweetly into the kiss, eagarly returning it.

Breaking apart, they gazed into each other's eyes.

„Ya're a great kisser, kid."

Syn's cheeks flushed. „Thanks."

After some time, she spoke again. „Let's play a game."

Lockdown propped himself on one elbow to stare down at her. „What kinda game?"

„Well, we ask each other a question and have to answer honestly no matter what."

„Huh. 'kay. Wanna go first?"

Syn lifted herself as well so she could look at him more properly. „What's your favorite color?"

„Really, kid? Ya can ask anythin' and ya ask my fave color?"

Syn scowled at him half heartedly. „Better start with easy and simple and move from there."

Lockdown grinned a bit and pulled her close, growling in her audio. „I'm rather fond of black. What'd ya do 'fore ya met Yoketron?"

Syn's optics dimmed a bit and she buried her face in his neck. „ I...I was a homeless anarchist and strategically blew up empty buildings. I was known as The Black Terror."

„Wait. _You're_ The Blackie?!"

„Mmhmm. It was all an act of rebelllion for a reason so stupid I'll just say I wanted to see the world burn. Stormwind was my partner, a rebellious rich Seeker looking for adventure and danger. I made a mistake of revealing my flaw to her... she turned me in for the sake of a clean record. I ended up in the Stockades. Master Yoketron found me there."

Lockdown whistled low. He couldn't wrap his processors around the fact that his Syn and The Blackie were the same Cybertronian. It was a full 180 ° personality swing.

"Kinda hard ta believe."

"Yes, well, Master Yoketron's faith in students was rather transformative." Syn sighed, nuzzling the monster mech's thick neck.

"What's that?"

Syn looked across her small shoulder to gaze affectionately at the ornament hanging by the berth. "A dream catcher. It traps nightmares and lets good dreams pass trough to you. It was a gift from Master Yoketron, while I was haunted by the memories of the Stockade." She brushed her white fingers against the item carefully, as if it were made of glass. "I haven't had a nightmare ever since."

Lockdown looked on with distant optics, feeling more guilty than ever. Here he was, the very murderer of her Master, with whom she appeared to be quite close, positively snogging with her. "Ya two seem to… share quite the past."

Syn frowned as she turned to face him. "He was a father figure to me. He was my savior, my guardian, the first being to ever show me something other than hate and disgust." Tilting her helm to the side, she arched a brow. Lockdown looked down and she gave an unbelievable look, shook her helm and wrapped her arms around his back. "Oh Lockdown. Do you _really_ think I had a relationship before you?"

"Ya didn't?"

Syn shook her head no and looked down in embarrassment. "I've never even kissed before I met you."

Smiling slightly, Lockdown tilted her chin up, making her look at him. " Even better, yer a natural talent."

A sigh. Syn leaned her forehelm on his chassis. "I've never been in lo-…relationship. I ask of you to go easy on me."

Lockdown kissed her lightly and she melted against him. "We'll thake dis one step at tha time. Never been with somebot. Only one night stands."

"What if I… told you I loved you?"-she whispered between the soft kisses. Lockdown pulled back a bit to look her in the optics.

"…Do ya?"

Syn gazed at him desperately, as if searching for something, then suddenly attacked him with a bruising kiss. Lockodown recoiled in shock, but kissed back, easing her down on the berth.

666

Syn knew something was up when Lockdown strolled up to her with that uncharacteristical grin of his.

"Pack up kiddo. Takin' ya cruisin'."

"I beg you pardon?"

Lockodown rolled his optics, the grin still plastered on that broad mouth of his. "Takin'. Ya. Cruisin'. Up fer it?"

Syn's faceplate split apart by her own grin and she latched onto him, peppering his face with smooches and butterfly kisses. Lockdown cackled and pried her off.

"Jus' dun go floatin' away."

666

"Lockdown, come see this!"

Lockdown hauled himself from his captain chair, setting The Death's Head on autopilot, stomping to where Syn stood before the red glassy vista. Looking out, Lockdown sighed in annoyance. "I dun see a thing."

Syn kneaded her helm in dismay and pointed outside. " Look at those galaxy clusters. Do you see it?"

Lockdown narrowed his optics, zooming in on the point where she told him to look. That's when he saw it. The clusters had a pattern in them, and between them was total darkness! "What _is _that stuff?"

Syn was smiling as she leaned closer to the vista. " The biggest thing in the universe. It's called The Cosmic Web. An endless scaffolding of galaxy clusters bound and connected together by the dark matter. If one galaxy was a dust particle, the whole Web would be the size of the dojo. It is _that_ big."

Peeling his optics from the impressive scenery, Lockdown looked down at the daydreaming fembot. She gazed outside with otherworldly optics, the universe reflecting itself in their depths. Lockdown stared, hypnotized, as water and flame captured the picture. Rather than watching The Web trough the red tinted glass, he watched it trough her optics.

And in that moment, he saw _beauty._

666

Syn took a paintbrush, standing before the mirror. She dipped it into the paint and brought it up to her faceplate, painting her thin lips blood red. Her normal paintjob was gone, covered in black with blue accents. She hated mirrors, but she needed one for what she was doing. Adding the finishing touches, she checked herself over, and commed Lockdown.

:Come to my quarters.:

Before long, Lockdown appeared in the doorway. "What's it, kid? I gotta- _woah."_

Syn tilted her helm at him with a coy smile, leaning against the wall casually. "Yes, Lockdown? You were saying?" –she said, looking in his optics as she ran a single servo down her cockpit. Lockdown snapped out of his trance, a predatory look in his optics as he regarded her hungrily. "Oh, yer a kinky little tease, ya know that?" He crossed the distance between them in two quick steps, pressing her into the wall, and their lips connected. Lockdown swiped at her bottom lip with his glossa, asking for entrance, and she parted her lips slightly, her glossa rising up to meet his in a game two could play. He lifted her off the floor and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he walked to the berth, never once breaking the kiss. He eased her on the soft covers, crawling up above her. Her breath already came in ragged inhales and shaky exhales, and Lockdown realized just how much she was inexperienced in this kind of things.

He dipped down to kiss and suck at her neck, running his servo over her wing and chassis, trailing it down to her hip and stilling it there. Syn wrapped her arms around his neck, toying with the spikes on his back. She spread her legs slightly and he dipped his servo between them, palming her interface panel. She keened and her thighs quivered. He kissed her, then trailed his lips down her heated frame, swirling his glossa across her crotch. She gasped and the plating folded out of the way, exposing her port to him. He swooped down and took her in without hesitance, dipping his long glossa into her. She mewled quietly as he did unspeakable wonders to her, wrapping her legs around his broad shoulders and pulling him closer, placing her servo on his helm, writhing in delight.

He pulled away and hovered above her, kissing her full on the lips, letting her taste her own grease that protected the lower internals during transformation. She nearly overloaded right then and there. He slid away his protective covering and his jack sprang up, crackling with electricity. He pushed in slowly, relishing in the tight heat surrounding him. He found the rhythm that worked for the both of them and she locked her feet on the small of his back, letting her helm fall back with a soft moan, panting heavily. Lockdown pressed his open mouth to her chassis and hummed, the vibrations shoving Syn helm first into the most amazing overload ever. Her internals wound themselves so tightly the lubricant tube ruptured, the sticky fluid gushing out of her port, making Lockdown's movements slick and quick, and he nearly crushed her under himself as he overloaded violently with a snarl, biting down on her neck. They collapsed on the berth, their overheated systems shutting down as they both spontaneously fainted.

666

Earth music was amazing, and Syn found this out when she stumbled upon the human site called YouTube. She blasted the gothic notes all around, blindfold covering her optics as she felt the music without the distracting visual input.

"Syn! What in tha name of Cybertron are ya doin'? Do ya know how many vibes there are?"

Syn turned towards the sound of his voice. "It's music, Lockdown. It's so colorful!"

"What's with the blindfold?"

"Listening is much more intense without visual input."

Syn spun on one foot as the beautiful song ended with a gentle note. "There are so many kinds of this music. Did you know some of the greatest composers were actually deaf like you? Maybe you can create music by vibrations!"

"What in the Allspark are ya talkin' 'bout?!"

Syn lifted the blindfold off her left optics, regarding him silently. "Try copying the vibrations of the song." She played the French song that was not too complex, but beautiful all the same. Lockdown narrowed his optics at the fembot, scoffing. "As if! It's impossible, kid!"

"How do you know something is impossible is you don't try?"

Lockdown sighed and tried copying the vibrations. He struggled a bit, and threw his arms up in the air. "This's hopeless, Syn!"

"Try again. A little bit more guttural than the last time. Yes. Yes, that's it! You're singing, Lockdown!"

Lockdown looked down in disbelief at the excited youngling and touched his throat, smiling slightly. "I'm singin'…"


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:**** I feel like I need to move the plot a bit and prolong my chapters. Sorry for the delay, I was travelling and suffered from a **_**massive**_** imagination blockade. I wrote a oneshot starring Jetfire and Jetstorm, I don't expect anyone to like it, far too angry and weird.**

**Also, I think I might write a fic concerning Syn and her past before Lockdown. Share your thoughts on it please. Ideas and requests for this fic are welcome and would actually help a lot, thanks!**

**I don't own. Only Syn.**

**Chapter X**

_Au fond de nous,_

_Malgre tout,_

_Malgre les douleurs,_

_Je n'attandais que vois._

_Je vien de loin,_

_Je n'esperais,_

_N'esperais que vous,_

_Je n'attandais que vous..._

-Garou, „Je n'attandais que vous" (I waited only for you)

666

„Ya know this's incredibly, _stupidly _sensless?"

Syn strung the wires on the hourglass-like object tighter. „ Hmm, no, not really."

Lockdown snorted as the string slipped from her hands and she growled in frustration, glaring at him as he strung it back up with ease. „Me singin' I can dig, okay, but playin' an instrument, a _guitar_ no less, I dun get how is possible."

„Anything is possible, Lockdown. Impossible only means you did not try hard enough." Syn held up the finished instrument and inspected it. Its crimson surface gleamed like liquid in harsh lights of the workshop. „Besides, it suits you. You look (and act) like a cowbot." She ran her servo over the taut strings. „ String type instruments work based on vibrations. They resonate in the box." Syn tapped the surface on the guitar and it made a hollow sound. Satisfied, she handed it to Lockdown. „ You downloaded the theory?"

Lockdown nodded. „Yeah. But dun be suprised if it don't work."

Lockdown swept his digits over the taut strings briefly, then sat down and settled the guitar on his tights. Opening a set of chords on his HUD, he catched onto the melody fairly quicky. He was startled how _easily_ he played. Every brush and jerk of his fingers created vibrations that travelled trough the instrument, straight to his hands and chest.

Against all logic, he, a _deaf _mech, created _music_.

Syn closed her optics and tapped her fingers to the beat of the song. After Lockdown went trough it a few times successfully, he started to sing. His rough voice felt like breeze on a hot summer day, so amazingly _purple_, passionate, gentle.

I was waiting only for you...

I was hoping only for you...

I walked for so long,

I come from far away...

The world was large,

and long the road.

I was waiting only for you,

no one else but you.

I was waiting for your voice,

Your sighs...

Give me your air,

So I can finally breathe...

Oh, the lyrics spoke of so much in so few words, French language fitting the emotion like a glove, and Syng sang back to him with equal passion. They let unspoken feelings flood them and overtake their senses, and they craved firtitude to say them out loud. Lockdown's guitar wept gently in his arms, and Syn's vision burst with arrays of _colors_ as he reached the bridge. Lockdown's voice echoed in her processor, so fierce and full of emotion, and she felt it crash over her, and she sung the wave out, emotions spilling out of her mouth as her whole frame trembled with joy of _being_ here, now, with him.

The beautiful song ended and the two of them stood there, staring at each other.

„...Wow." Lockdown all but whispered.

„Yup." Syn agreed wholeheartedly and brushed her lips against his. Lockdown leaned in, but she teasingly pulled out of his reach and sauntered away. „Meet me on the rafters."

„Ya know these're pipes, really, don'tcha?"

Syn glanced across her shoulder at him and gave a sceptical look. „Of course. 'Rafters' simply sounds better. I mean, what kind of word is _pipes_? Really." And with a flourish of hips, she was gone.

Lockdown put the guitar down on the table and walked to the energon container, when he felt the vibrations come from the console. Opening up the line, Swindle came into view. „Whatdya want, Swindle? I'm in the middle of sumthing."

The arms dealer looked oddly panicked, his voice no longer whispering, seducing and fluent. „Lockdown, there's no time! They're coming! They're gonna kill ya, buddy! Ya gotta run!" Right before the line went dead.

Lockdown arched a brow, completely puzzled by the outburst. He was ready to dismiss it as a distasteful joke, when Syn's vocaliser emitted a powerful, high screech that nearly sent The Death's Head shaking. Tearing in the direction of the vibrations, Lockdown dived facefirst into a violent battle. He whipped out his chainsaw and started tearing trough the intruders. Syn screamed as a blade ran itself clean into her left wing, and slashed furiously with her katanas. It was a long, hard fight, and it seemed like the two of them were winning.

Alas, there were simply too many of them.

The last thing Lockdown saw was Syn hitting the ground, bleeding.

After that, nothing.

666

Lockdown slowly came to with a groan. His helm pounded, and he lifted his hand to rub it.

Only, he couldn't move his hand.

Bewildered, he jerked the chain binding his servos. Syn sighed behind him. „It's no use, Lockdown. I've tried."

„What is this scrap?!"

„No idea."

Lockdown groaned in dismay and plopped against the pole they were tried to. Syn interlaced their fingers together. „They put flight locks on me. No way of flying now."

Lockdown grunted and tightened his servo around hers. „Damage report?"

After a bit of silence. „Mostly repaired. Only dents and scratches. You?"

„Nah. Same."

They fell into silence again.

666

The door opened and two bots stalked in. Lockdown and Syn's helms snapped up. Syn noticed an insignia on their chests.

Decepticons.

They were led trough a maze of corridors, and finally, into the main throne room.

And there he sat proudly.

_Megatron._


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:**** Oh come on! No comments? I need ideas and opinions people. They're my fuel! D:**

**I don't own. Only Syn.**

**Chapter XI**

„_Megatron?!"_

A clang echoed as Syn was whacked upside the head.

„Silence, femme!"

She scowled at the floor and glanced at Lockdown. He had his helm bowed.

What the- Lockdown doesn't _bow_!

The large warmonger on the throne growled at the mechs holding them down. „That is enough, Blitzwing. Lugnut, you may remove the stasis cuffs."

The large cyclops bowed melodramatically. „Of course, oh great and glorious leader!"

Syn was awfully tempted to roll her optics at the displa. Did this mech lack some bolts in his helm?

The cuffs were removed and Syn jumped to her feet. „What is the meaning of this?"

„Silence, neutral, you have no rights to speak so freely."

Cold calmness in megatron's voice stopped Syn's hands from releasing her katanas.

„Lockdown. You did not inform me of your companion."

Lockdown lifted his helm and met Megatron's gaze dead-on. „I found it unecessary."

The glare in warlord's smoldering optics intensified, before being subdued into something less threatning. All of the mechs were dismissed from the room with a flick of the ebony wrist and a collective salute. There were only three of them now.

Megatron rose from his throne and descended the short staircase. Syn took a hesitant step back. This mech was freakin' _huge!_ Serously! She literally barely _reached his waist!_

Her optics, hidden behind a visor, followed Megatron's every move. He approached a large table and poured energon into three – goblets?

He motioned them to come closer, but Syn felt herself rooted to the spot. Finally coming out of it when Lockdown's EM field brushed her own, she uncertainly trailed behind.

Megatron handed her the smallest goblet out of three, but she still had to hold it with both servos.

_Oh, the joys of being defectively small._

Megatron raised his goblet – golden, Syn noticed – and the two of them lifted theirs as well in response.

„A toast! To nothing in particular."

Syn brought her obsidian goblet down and eyed the contents distrustingly.

No way will she taste it before Megatron did.

The large warbuild smirked and chuckled. A glare that was sent his way was thankfully masked by the calm aqua glow of the visor.

„There's no need to be so paranoic, miss Synaesthesia."

He said her name _perfectly._

She craned her neck up at him and their optics locked. She watched, as if in a trance, as he brought his goblet to his full, round lips and tasted the energon inside, not once breaking optic contact. Syn felt goosebumps trough her wings at the intense, burning, _playful_ stare fixed on her. She frowned and tore her optics away before they could trail down to his dangerous mouth, and sipped her energon.

…_Wow._

The taste in her mouth made her _see colors_ she never even knew existed! Neons, pastels, sour, sweet, hot, _everything was inside! _She was tempted to down it all in one gulp, but refrained from doing so merely for courtesy's sake.

„Now"-Megatron spoke-„ I haven't called you here simply to have company for devouring high grade. I am afraid that I have a problem."

_No duh. _Syn thought, struggling not to give him a flat stare.

„This war"-Megatron continued-„has gone on for far too long. I fear my troops have forgotten what we're fighting for. However, I have not. Miss Synaesthesia, I believe you are harbouring a secret similar to your partner and me."

Syn arched her brow. „What do you mean?" Megatron chuckled. „Please, do not try to decieve me. You are flawed."

Syn stood there, rooted to the spot. Oh no. No, no, no, no, _no!_ This was bad. Very, very bad. Her frame started shaking from helm to pede as her crossed processor designed thousands of scenarios, all ending same. Death. Pain. Suffering. She almost fainted, but when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder, her frame jerked. Looking up, she gave Lockdown a fearful look.

„Relax, Syn. It's okay. Megatron won't hurt you."

Megatron tched, drawing their attention. „Of course I won't. I would never hurt my sister, or brother. It's a matter of honor."

Syn blinked, wait-sister? „Are you...flawed as well?"

„Of course. I lack half of my processors. I use oscillators, much like Lockdown."

Oh. That explained things. Most of them. But Syn still wanted answers. „And you need us for...?"

Megatron leered down at her, and she fighted the urge to run and hide. „I need you to remind my troops what we're fighting for."

„Sorry, I don't think I follow. Decepticons fight for _Decepticon _cause. I bear no mark."

Syn was really starting to hate his chucking. „Oh, my lady. _Decepticon_ is just a name. Flaws live decieving the rest of society. Decieving. Deception. Decepticons. I fight for the freedom of my people. For _flaws."_

Syn threw all of the courtesy trough the proverbal window and outright gaped at him. Her processor struggled to make sense of what she was hearing. She was being invited to _motivate and protest_ for her rights by _Megatron_ himself.

„I...I don't know. I need to think about this."

„Of course. Take as much time as you need. Though, you two shall remain here. Shockwave will show you your quarters."

Syn jumped out of her armor as the spy came behind her, slowly turning around to stare at the red optic, completely creeped out. Shockwave bowed to his leige and turned around. Syn had to give her step a little bit of skip to keep up with his stomps.

Stopping in front of the door, Shockwave gave them the key code, _bowed_ his head slightly, and disappeared without a word. Syn blinked. That was weird. Opening the doors, she was met with a huge room, since it was obviously made with warbuilds in mind. But crimson silk courtains and a wonderously plushy berth told her this was suited for somebot with a rather high calling. Purple lightnings illuminated her as she approached the berth and downright plopped down face-first, moaning at the softness. Feeling the servo and a hook lift her and shift her a bit more comfortably, she sighed in dismay, wounding her arms around Lockdown's midsection.

„What have I gotted myself into?"

„No idea. But ya got me into it as well, so yer stuck with me until we get out of this mess."

Smiling at his poorly masked devotion, she pecked his inked cheek and buried her helm in the soft pillows, Lockdown pressing himself to her back and wrapping his arms around her.

In few seconds they were asleep.

666

Syn woke to the sounds of groaning and metal screeching. Moaning, she turned around, missing the warmth of Lockdown's arms.

"G-go back ta sleep, kid…ungh…"

Her optics snapped open and she sprang up, covers pooling around her hips. "Lockdown! What's wrong?"

Lockdown was bent over, sitting on the edge of the berth, his servos tightly twined and pressed to his chassis, metal screeching in protest. Syn crawled towards him quickly, putting a servo on his spiked back. It was scorching hot. "What happened? What've you done to yourself?!"

Lockdown shuddered, condensation dripping down his brow. He gritted his dentals as another wave of pain flowed through his frame. "Nothing…I'm fine."

"Pit no!" Syn nearly screamed in disbelief. " Why are you hurting? What's happening?"

Lockdown groaned, and she arched her optics, taking his servo in hers, rubbing at his backstruts soothingly. "T-The chip. It wore out…"

"What in the Allspark are you blabbering about?!"

"The pain suppressor chip…"

"Why would you even _use_ something like that in the first place?"

"…d-degenerative rust."

If Syn died that very moment, she wouldn't feel a thing.

"…_**WHAT?!**_"

No. _No._ Not that. Anything but rust. _Anything! _

_Why?! Was I not tormented enough with Master's disease?!_

"Okay. Okay, okay. Come, lay down. "

Syn tried to move Lockdown on his back, but he shook his head and protested by shoving at her weakly. She bared her dentals and growled in despair and resisted the urge to smash everything in her sight. Taking deep breaths to calm herself, she looked him in the optics, and gave a worried glance at their dimness. She smiled a bit, trying to calm him by brushing her EM field against his. "Come on, Lockdown. I can make it go away for a while. All you have to do is relax."

Reluctantly, Lockdown nodded, and she wrapped her arms around him, easing him slowly on the fluffy berth. Every time a groan escaped him, she stopped to let him adjust to the new position.

Degenerative Rust was one of the worst incurable diseases. Without the proper treatment, the patient could fall into coma from sheer pain. The joints will become stiff, sometimes even swollen, and the bot will feel pain in their shoulders, lower back, hips, and servos, as well as numbness in legs and arms. Lockdown looked like he had a lifetime of this, feverish and weak as he was. Syn frowned worryingly, this was not good. Chips were good in the sense of sparing the bot the pain, but they could be fatal if too strong. Interrupting pain signals meant you couldn't feel when something was wrong in your systems. That's what pain was there for- to warn somebot when they're broken. Pain was a vital part in maintaining healthy function - one couldn't go around abusing something like that so carelessly!

Shushing him as he groaned, Syn felt like crying. Why would Primus torment them so? Were they not in enough pain in the past? Lockdown obviously had a low pain tolerance level, and to have degenerative rust meant being in pain _all the freakin' time!_ Easing him down on the berth, she pulled out an iodine stick, lit it and bowed three times, holding her breath so she didn't inhale the sharp smell. Vibrant purple veil of smoke drifted around her. She whispered a quick prayer hastily, and lit two more sticks, waving them above Lockdown's frame, yet pulling back quickly as he coughed violently. Sticking them into a bowl, she crawled on the berth beside him, sitting on her ankles, and concentrated on her breathing. Slipping into a mild meditative state, she focused on his troubled frame, and let her hands drift across him, as light as the ghostly smoke surrounding them. She held back a choked sob as Lockdown's face twisted in pain, and took a shaky breath.

"Relax." She whispered soothingly before starting to hum, finding the frequency of his body. It was not easy-his shell was really fragged up, and there were too many parts that didn't belong to him, but she managed after some time.

"Oh, come on kid…ya really think that ninja marasmus will do the thing…"

Syn refrained from scowling and smacking him across the faceplate, instead focusing on maintaining the frequency. She moved her frame a bit, shifting so she could put her hands above his feverish helm. She was afraid real deal now, this would be the first time she attempted processor over matter, and she saw it done, what, two times? Hoping, praying she wouldn't make Lockdown's condition worse and all those ancient texts weren't lying, she hummed a bit louder. _Please work, please work, please work._ That was all she could think about. She was nearing a nervous breakdown, almost ready to give up completely, when she felt a weird swelling warmth in her Spark, and Lockdown opened his optics a bit, staring in wonder as he was being healed.

Syn moved her hands over his frame, working on easing the pain one cog at a time, and by the time she passed his hip joints Lockdown was again able to relax, his temperature backing down to its normal level. She finally finished his pedes and pulled back, exhaling and wiping at her brow in relief. "Right, that's me finished. How do you-" She stopped, confused, as sounds of thundering snored reached her audios. Staring in wonder, she smiled.

Lockdown was _sleeping._

Reaching out to ghost her fingertips over his smiling lips, she dialed her audios down to protect her sanity from his loose intake valves and eased herself on his front, wrapping her arms around his thick neck. The session took in out of her, and she suddenly felt amazingly tired. Lulled by Lockdown's now steady hum of the systems, she fell asleep almost instantly.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:**** Soooo sorry for the wait.**

**I don't own. Only Syn.**

**Chapter XII**

Syn awoke to the sound of a buzz on her door. „Come in." She mumbled, placing her visor over her mismatched optics.

Megatron was the one who stood in the doorway. His imposing figuretowered over the tiny fembot. She slid off the berth, careful to not wake Lockdown.

„Have you thought about my proposal?"

Syn bit her lip hard. „Yes, I have." She spared a glance at the recharging form. „The answer is no."

Megatron looked shocked for a moment. His composure was quickly regained with a scowl. „No?"

Syn dipped her helm. „I'm sorry. But Lockdown needs me right now. I...can't afford to not be there for him. „

Megatron appeared to think this trough. „All right. I will personally escort you to your measly ship."

He shocked her by placing a heavy servo on her shoulder. „If you ever, _ever_ need something, contact me immidiately. „

Syn's mouth pressed into a tight, thin line. She nodded her helm once.

Then she was alone again with a mammoth mech on the berth.

_Uuhh..that was...pleasantly out of character for him._ She mentally facepalmed at her own thoughts.

That morning, Syn did a lot of praying. The iodine sticks she had with her were the ones that burned for the whole da. Master Yoketron used to say their prayers drifted along the dojo as long as the delicate rods burned.

She lit five. For Master, Lockdown, Prowl, Jazz and lastly herself. Vibrant purple smoke curled around the room like a veil.

Syn sat on the corner of the berth, watching her lover's sleeping face. Her petite servo dared a brush of knuckles against the tribal tattooed cheek. Lockdown had such a handsome face. High cheekbones, spindle, bright optics that betrayed his genious, sharp mind. Broad mouth with a strong jaw. Kissing him that first time, she discovered his denta were in a perfect order, with no underbite like his jaw suggested.

Her thin lips brushed his brow as her own creased in worry. She wished she could help him. If only there was a way...

She train of thought stopped right there.

There _was _a way.

666

The goodbye the warlord bid them was quick and formal. Lockdown was able to move around with the help of the pain manipulating chip. He was stationed at the ramp, The Death's Head set to the autopilot.

Huge, black servo clasped a tiny purple one. Megatron had to kneel slightly down to look Sn in the optics. Even then he towered adove her. „Remember what I told you, Synaesthesia. Whatever you need."

Syn nodded, not breaking eye contact. Their servos retreated to their sides. Syn bowed to him. He bowed his helm back to show he respected her ninja ways. She climbed the ramp to stand beside Lockdown. Just as the ramp started to lift, and the small ship flew up in the air, Syn could swear on her Master's grave she heard Megatron's raspy, deep voice bid them goodbye. „Farawell, sister."

The ship was the same as they left her. Lockdown ran the check over to make sure of that. Nothing was out of order. He set course to nowhere in particular.

Scrolling The Feed, he popped his neck in place, grunting.

Syn always stayed in his shadow. Finishing her kata, her feet planted back on the steel floor. She gazed at the hunched form of her beloved. Sparing a sigh, she slowly walked to him. Looking across his shoulder, she took the datapad out of his limp servos carefully. Hauling the sleeping mech up with processor over matter was fairly easy. Placing him on the berth of his quarters, she smiled at his snoring. Maybe it was for the better he was deaf. He would startle himself awake every night otherwise.

Letting the door swish close behind her, she strolled to the command centre. There, numerious shelves lined agains the walls.

Lockdown always complained about lack of space.

Wouldn't gatting rid of those be the only logical solution?

Processor over Matter asked for a lot of concentration. It was certainly a good thing Syn managed it on her own. She lifted up the shelves, all of them. Mods clattered around but none fell to the floor. The door to the workshop swished open and shelves ripped out of the walls fluidly, soundlessly, to follow Syn. It seemed almost comical.

She emptied all of the mods into four huge metal containers. Sealing them shut, she left them in the airlock, sending the selves back where they came from.

It was a good thing they were passing over Hospitax, a planet famous for it's medics. Securing the rope around her waist, she tugged onto the other end to make sure the knot around the pipe wouldn't unravel. It seemed to hold fairly well.

Taking a beep breath, she palmed the airlock button. It opened with a hiss of air and immidiately the containers were pulled outside. Syn dared a glance outside to make sure the parachutes opened. They did, and the wretched mods happily drifted down into the good hands of medics.

The airlock closed again. Syn breathed a sigh of relief. It diminished rather quickly and she jumped out of her armor as she heard a crash and a roar. Flying towards the noise, she halted.

Lockdown resembled a crazed animal. His bright optics flashed as he spotted her. His denta bared. The fangs locked together. Syn gulped.

„WHAT THE PIT IS THIS?!"

Syn winced.

„Um...renovation?"

His optic twitched. It was all the warning she got before he pressed her against the wall. Her feet dangled. Her servos shot up to pry at the servo around her neck. It squeezed. She gasped.

„_**WHO THE PIT GAVE YA THE RIGHT?! WHO DO YA THINK YOU ARE!"**_

Syn felt anger bubbling inside. It burst trough before she could subdue it. _ „SOMEONE WHO FUCKING __CARES__, OKAY?!"_

Lockdown met her acidic glare with a scowl. „Care to repeat that?"

„...I care. Got it?"

Lockdown's servo slowly lowered her to the ground and released its grip. She coughed and rubbed her neck, glaring at him. He glared back but caved in quickly. „Lemme see that..." he muttered and pried her servo off her neck. He tipped her chin up and examined her cabling with a delicacy of a butterfly.

„It's okay. You're not hurt." He whispered and planted a kiss to the side of the slender throat.

„Lockdown?"

„Forgive me..." he whispered shakily. The pecks to her throat continued, repetitive words echoing against the metalic mesh.

„Forgive me."

„Lockdown?"

„Forgive me."

Syn's optics arched as that wretched burning sensation in the throat came back. Her cooling systems got some more unshed tears. She barely noticed she forced them down. She clung onto the huge green mech.

„I forgive you."

666

„Kid, behind ya!"

Syn twirned and slashed at another tentacled creature, severing the appendages. The bloodlike goo sprayed her.

This was the last thing they needed.

Quintesson attack. Totally unprovoked, the wrethed things came out of nowhere. They were fighting them for at least an hour now. In an _airlock._

Syn's optics lit up as she got the idea. Slashing at another organic monster, she came back to back with her partner. ::I have an idea!:: she opened a private comm. line.

::What are ya waiting for then? Spit it!:: he growled as he fired at another quint.

:: Let's open the airlock.::

„WHAT?!" he howled in surprise.

„Trust me!" she countered. „Just back away from the vent!"

Pushing her way trough the attackers, she punched the command button. The airlock opened and the quintessons were pulled out in a heap. Syn flew frantically against the current. Lockdown was gripping onto the pipe, but his grip was slowly faltering. Digits slipping from the moist surface of the metal pipe, he tumbled trough the air.

Syn catched his servo. The laws of physics ordered her body to be pulled with him. She fought against it, and she succeeded. The airlock started to close.

They were safe.

Or would be, if not for a lucky shot of quint rifle. Syn screamed as her backstruts were pierced. Her thrusters sputtered, their bodies were janked to the side. The airlock was completely closed.

The vent was still on.

„_**GHAAAAAAH!" **_

Trough the haze of pain, Syn heard the sceam. It was not her. It was Lockdown.

His legs were ripped off clean knee-down.

She felt…_something._ Despair, maybe. Whatever it was, it gave her strength to push herself up from the cold floor, somehow lift the wounded mech by his servos up in the air and fly to the workshop. The moment his limp form touched the sugery table she fell to the floor in a heap.

Life of neutrals had many downfalls, no matter how free. Financial problems. Lack of a proper home.

Lack of contacts and any help.

That's why Lockdown had to teach Syn to repair herself. She had a fair knowledge of repairing now.

But how does she go about replacing his legs when she dumped every single unwanted mod trough the airlock two cycles ago?!

The answer came to her spontaneausly.

Old legs.

Crawling towards a panel and the floor and ripping it clean off, she dug a crate out of the floor. Lockdown hid it here a long time ago. Her back screamed as she pulled it out, energon bleeding and pooling around her.

The legs were still inside, along with his arms. Taking the lower limbs one by one, she rewired them back onto his body. They were limp, hanging only by a few wires. That changed quickly. Following only the quick course Lockdown gave her and her own instincts, she wired and rewired, welded the nerve endings together, patched armor and popped the joints together. It was only Primus she could thank for guiding her trough the surgery. Lockdown remained stable.

The agonizing procedure was finally done. She smiled a weak smile. Falling to the floor, she lay in her own energon. Her back felt like it was ripping apart. She forced herself up to grab a wound patcher. Reaching back, she messily patched herself up to stop the bleeding.

The floor suddenly seemed like a great place to sleep on. She let her optics dim and her form fell limp.

666

Lockdown woke up to a feeling of something being extremely _right_. Body wise. Something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Looking down at himself, his expression was a mix of bewilderment, shock and surprise.

Old legs?!

His mind flooded with memories of what happened the previous cycle. His legs were ripped clean off.

Syn repaired him.

Experimentally flexing his legs to make sure all was in place, he gave an impressed whistle. They were a bit stiff, but Syn patched him up fantastically.

Pushing himself up, he planted his feet on the floor. Nodding to himself as he felt it beneath him, he pushed up. Woobly, he took a step. Then the second one. By the fifth step he was able to move naturally without any complications.

„Where _is_ she, anyway?"

A moan answered him. He whipped around to see her shifting on her stomach, body flexing and curling around herself. She spotted him, and smiled. Energon trailed down her chin.

„Hey..."

„Syn."

He walked and slowly reached out to her. Slowly, afraid he might break her, he lifted her up onto the surgery table, letting her lay on her stomach.

Prying off the patch revealed a nasty infection. Lockdown couldn't suppress a hiss. Her backstruts were shattered. It was a miracle she managed to patch him up in this condition.

Ah he set to getting her stabilized, he couldn't help but ask.

„Why?"

Syn smiled weakly.

„I love you..."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter XIII**

Weeks passed. A month. Two. Syn could barely get out of the berth. Her backstruts healed slowly. Painfully. She meditated trough it most of the time. When not, she slept. Only times she was awake was to refuel on a low grade medical energon.

Lockdown never left her side. Ever since he regained his original legs, he was able to move much more freely. More…painlessly. Though, he couldn't enjoy a good hunt to celebrate with a hurt fembot on his processor.

It didn't matter, really. He kept himself distracted, doing chores Syn would usually do. By the end of the fourth week he gained new respect for the neon flier. How does she manage to do everything and then have sometime for herself?! Cooking, cleaning, tidying up...the list went on and on. Were all fembots this flexibe? He certainly knew a few mecha that could do it, but fembots... they were a completely other story.

Lockdown snoozed on a portable berth he brought into Syn's room. Jerking himself awake, he shook his head-ever since Syn entered this state, the nightmares hauted him again. The only way to keep them away was to be with her, and he was pretty sure he was getting addicted to her, but who the Pit cared, she was better than drugs.

Actually, now that he gazed at her little furm, draped over the soft berth on her abdomen, he confirmed it. She really _was _better than any drug or mod.

Mods...a shiver zipped trough his spine. He felt strangely...naked and exposed without them. He looked at his mismatched arms. Those were the only mods he had now, along with a few weapons. His original arms were destroyed on the beginning of his hunting career. It was the beginnig of his mod addiction, too. He hugged himself.

He hoped Syn would wake up soon.

By the end of the second month without any mods whatsoever, Lockdown was ready to offline. _Eveything_ hurt, he purged constantly, sometimes even hallucinated! His mind was numb, his intelligent optics dim, movements jerky and uneven.

He tried doing meditation techniques and katas Syn retaught him, he really _did._ He tried with all his might, drinking many teas and other potions Maser Yoketron, and now Syn, used to make when ill.

And it _worked_. In the beginning he was sloppy, unfocused, frustrated. But as time went by, his resolve steeled. Every time he slipped into one of the meditation forms, something in his mind _clicked_, and there would be no pain, no nausea, nothing. Just peace.

Katas and Cyber Chi slowly made his movements smoother and easier. As time went by, Lockdown was well on his path of cyberninja. There was almost no _pain_ in his joints or head. And to think, he spen four billion years thinking tis wasn't his forte! He gazed at the still sleeping form from his usual spot in the room.

He owed her everything.

Syn stirred. Lockdown jumped to his feet, instantly at her side. She groaned and shifted. Blue optic opened to look at him. Blink, a smile, and it closed again.

Next time she woke up, six months have passed.

She simply got up and stretched, joints popping back in place.

„Well. What a nap."

Lockdown, hearing again, snapped around to stare at her. Her statement hung in the air. He snorted. Then howled from laughter. Frankly, he didn't know if he should cry, yell or laugh.

Syn was awake!

She arched a brow at him. „What?"

Lockdown calmed down enough to speak. „What?! You wake up after nearly a _year_ of coma and the first thing you say is „What a nap?"" He nearly yelled.

Syn blinked. She was out _that _long? Sure, a year was nothing compared to their life spans, but anything could've happened during that period.

Her train of thought was cut off when Lockdown knelt and embraced her. She hugged him back.

„I missed you, kiddo."

Syn forced her tears down. Clsing her optics, she clung on tightly.

That night, they weren't gentle.

As time went by, Syn noticed Lockdown becoming more and more...graceful. It puzzled her. She confronted him about it.

„You sure you're not hiding mods somewhere?"

Lockdown looked down at her. she was in his lap, both of them covered in Lockdown's thick poncho. A glint in her eyes and a soft smile suggested she was just joking.

„Naw. Cyberninja arts are better."

Syn choked on her mug of warm tea at that. „_Excuse_ me?!"

„Yeah. Kinda forgot to mention it. Training helps with withdrawal."

...Wow. so something big _did _happen after all.

„Good."

Nothing more was said on the matter. It was simple. There was no need for overanalizing it. Comfortable silence spoke for them.

Next few weeks was dedicated to getting Syn back into shape. It was done pretty quickly, and now she and Lockdown chased each other on pipes and naked cables that served as rafters and tightropes. They were both smiling, feeling quite playful. Lockdown was able t catch her with little difficulties now.

He jumped her and they both fell to the ground, laughing like little younglings.

Calming down, they turned to their sides to look at each other. Interlocking their fingers, they stared into each other's optics like in a cheesy black and white movie. No words were needed. None were said. They just softly smiled at each other as silence once again spoke.

„_I love you, Lockdown."_

„_Loving ya right back, kid."_


End file.
